


Waking up in Vegas

by BurningDove



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M, hints of Margaery/Sansa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:17:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 47,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3132491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningDove/pseuds/BurningDove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa, a New York socialite, and her younger sister Arya are visiting their father, wealthy owner of the Stark hotels, while he is in Las Vegas for business.  But they have more in mind from the trip than a family holiday.  Arya has been practicing counting cards and perfecting her poker face, and Sansa is planning to sweep casino heir Joffrey Baratheon off his feet when they reunite.  Both girls end up with something a little different than what they were betting on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sansa

Sansa had been to Las Vegas once before, with all her family when she was only 12. Her father had been in meetings all day and her mother took her, Robb and Arya around to see all the sights. She remembered glitzy boutiques and eating ice cream sundaes dusted with flakes of gold. In her memory it was pleasant enough, but she was acutely aware at the time of being a child in an adult’s playground. 

Ten years later she was very much looking forward to going back. Her father was already there for business and had invited Sansa and her younger sister Arya to join him for a few weeks. She was planning on doing some serious shopping and partying, and a few of her good friends were going to pop over from LA. Arya would be a bit of a drag, sure, but she could be managed. And to top it all off, the absolutely gorgeous son of one of her dad’s oldest friends and business partners would be in town. 

Sansa hid a dreamy smile in the airplane window. She had met Joffrey Baratheon a few times before when she was younger, and was instantly captivated by his charming smile, light green eyes and golden curls. He was three years older than her and had been infinitely cooler when they were children. Heir to a casino dynasty, his father’s family had the renowned King’s Landing and a few smaller establishments as well, and his mother’s family owned the ritzy up and coming Lion. Sansa ran into Joffrey a month ago in New York at a gala and found him charming as ever. They went out for cocktails afterwards and had been texting off and on since. 

Arya sighed and squirmed in the seat next to her. She was excited to make the trip as well, though for extremely different reasons from Sansa. Arya was 19 and itching to try out her luck at the card table. They would do some major damage together on this trip, but at least Sansa would have a serious shopping haul to show for it. Sansa looked her sister over. Arya had her long dark hair tucked unceremoniously under gigantic headphones, and wore skinny black jeans and a plaid button up shirt much too large for her. She was a heartbreaker and had no idea. 

Conscious of being observed, Arya removed her headphones and turned her grey eyes to meet the brighter blue of Sansa’s. “What did I do?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly. I was just thinking how glad I am we’re making this trip together.” She smiled sweetly at her sister. 

“Aaaand the bullshit meter is off the charts.”

“Arya that’s not nice. I really do hope we can spend some time together.” 

“Mmhm.” 

Sansa tried a different topic. “So when we get there we’ll go to the hotel and freshen up, and then we’ve got dinner with the Baratheons and Lannisters.”

“Yeah I know that,” Arya replied. “I’m only going because dad says I have to, but don’t worry, after that I’ll leave you alone with your new boyfriend.” 

The captain saved Sansa from having to reply by announcing their descent. Sansa leaned back in her first class seat and closed her eyes, and when she opened them they had arrived.

One of their father’s men, Jory, was waiting for them at the airport. After hugs and hellos, he got their bags, Arya’s nondescript black and Sansa’s Louis Vuitton monogram print, and loaded the limo. Arya chatted with Jory and updated him on their mother and Robb. Sansa couldn't focus enough for conversation, she just had this feeling that something really incredible was about to happen. She would see Joffrey again tonight and dazzle him, there was no way he could not fall for her now, as hard as she had fallen for him years ago. 

As they arrived at the Stark Hotel just off the strip Sansa was feeling like a princess. This was her night, the success of the whole trip depended on it. Their father was in the penthouse suite waiting for them. 

Sansa’s cries of “daddy!” and Arya’s “hey dad!” jumbled as they both ran up to him and surrounded him with hugs.

Sansa stepped back and beamed up at him. Ned Stark was a quiet, thoughtful man and Sansa loved him with all her heart. She often clashed with her overprotective, lookalike mother, but though her father was strict, with enough pouts he would usually give in to her. 

“Girls! I’m so glad you’re here safe and on time.” He looked tired, Sansa thought. “We need to leave for dinner in an hour," he looked pointedly at Sansa, "And I've got to make a few phone calls. We can catch up on the ride over.”

“Can we walk?” Sansa heard Arya ask as she headed towards the bathroom with her cosmetic case. “We’ve been sitting all day.”

Her dad agreed, and Sansa didn't argue. She would suffer through the walk in her heels if she must, though if she allowed herself to admit it, a walk back through the lights and buzz of the Vegas night sounded pleasant enough. Maybe Joffrey would walk her home. 

She shimmied into a pink silk shift dress that hugged her curves and revealed a hint of cleavage while her curling iron heated up. Nothing too sexy or flashy, his parents would be there too after all. After freshening her day makeup, she added a bold red lip. She shook out her auburn waves and curled them carefully, to look perfect but like she woke up that way. Satisfied, she kissed her reflection in the mirror for good luck, leaving a lipstick mark.

* * *

The table in the private room in back of the restaurant fell silent when she arrived with her father and Arya. Sansa put on her most charming smile and surveyed the gathering as polite greetings were made all around. She had met them all before, thought it had been some years since she had seen any of the party but Joffrey. There was her father’s oldest friend and business partner Robert Baratheon. He’d put on some weight since Sansa saw him last, and he was obviously already a few drinks in. Luckily Joffrey didn't seem to take after him at all. Next to him to the left was his wife Cersei Lannister, then her twin brother Jaime. They were both extremely beautiful people, blonde with green eyes, and Sansa could only hope to look as good as Cersei when she was that age. By Jaime was the equally beautiful Joffrey; he grinned at Sansa and her heart definitely skipped a few beats. 

Sansa heard nothing as the parents made small talk, distracted by Joffrey who stood and pulled out the empty chair next to his, nodding to her to come sit. She walked over, trying not to trip over her own feet or blush too furiously. 

“Sansa, you’re even more beautiful than I remembered." Joffrey said. "Too bad you wouldn’t send pics like I asked,” he winked at her. 

“Thank you,” she ducked her head as she lost the battle with her blush. “It’s good to see you again, you look very nice.”

He nodded at the compliment. “How was your flight?” 

“It was just fine as flights go, thank you for asking.”

Joffrey turned to speak with his uncle and Sansa looked across the table. Her father sat in a chair that had been saved for him at Robert’s right hand side, and Arya was next to him, looking very put upon and fiddling with her napkin. Next to Arya and across from Sansa was Joffrey’s younger brother Tommen, a sweet boy if Sansa remembered correctly, so definitely not Arya’s type. 

Her eyes continued their journey around the room until they landed on the man standing in the corner, someone she couldn't believe she hadn't noticed the second she walked into the room. 

He was the biggest man she had ever seen, near seven feet tall and a solid mass of muscle, but that wasn’t what made the impression. Half his face was covered in horrible scars, from his scalp to where they disappeared under his beard. He had stringy dark hair and crazed eyes, and it was those eyes that frightened her the most when they met her own. His scowl deepened at her stare.

She flinched in her seat then looked down at her lap, and Joffrey turned at her sudden movement. 

“Is everything alright, Sansa?” He quickly made the connection between her nervousness and the man in the corner who was still looking at her. He leaned in close to her, whispering conspiratorially. “Don’t worry about him, babe. He’s just my old guard dog, he won’t hurt you.” Joffrey smiled. “Unless I tell him to.” 

Sansa blushed at her faux pas. “Oh no, it's fine, I’m just tired from the trip so I’m a little jumpy I guess.” She had to get another chance to make an impression on this blonde vision staring deep into her eyes with his green ones. “I’m so excited to see everything around town, it’s been too long since I was here. I was wondering if you might want to show me around?”

“Of course, sweetheart, I would love to. You know my family practically owns this city,” he swept a hand across the table. “No one could be a better guide.”

She was beaming, she had him locked in for tomorrow at least. 

Dinner continued with limited activity of note. Cersei whispered with her brother Jaime, Arya teased Tommen until he cried, and Ned sat watching them all as Robert laughed and drank.

When the meal was finished, Ned stood to leave, saying he would take Robert back on his way. Arya quickly rose to go with him, but Sansa lingered, not wanting to cut short her night with Joffrey. Fortunately, Joffrey himself asked her to stay a while longer, and she said goodnight to her father and sister. They made polite conversation and he touched her hand as they each had another glass of wine. Cersei remained with them as well, watching Jaime try to cheer up Tommen across the table. Joffrey was sweet and attentive, and Sansa was falling so hard, but then after several pleasant moments he happened to check the time on his phone and it was like a switch went off. 

“So sorry, babe, I have plans. I need to go." He moved to leave. "I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon." 

Sansa stood as well, still grasping for the ending to the evening she had planned out in her head. “I – We walked over here, I wouldn’t quite feel safe going back on my own.”

Joffrey smiled understandingly. “Of course, how thoughtless of me.” He turned to the looming presence still in the corner, now behind Sansa. “My dog will walk you back and see that you’re safe.”

Sansa tried to hide her disappointment. Of course she couldn’t expect Joffrey to change his plans for her. She thought of turning down the unwanted offer and saying she would just take a cab, but couldn’t risk being rude. And if Joffrey said he was ok…

“Thank you, that’s very kind.”

Joffrey took her hand. “Until tomorrow then. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Sansa smiled at him, said goodnight to the others and headed to the door, acutely aware of her massive shadow. Once they were outside, she slowed until she was next to him and spoke. 

“I hope I didn’t offend you earlier, sir.”

He snorted and his black hair shook. “Don’t call me sir. And Sansa fucking Stark caring about my feelings? I’m touched." His voice dripped sarcasm. 

She ignored the colorful addition to her name. “I apologize, I don’t know what else to call you. I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Save your breath, girl. I’m just here to make sure you stay safe for him. I saw the game you were playing, did you really think he would walk you back himself?” The giant man laughed, but Sansa didn’t understand what was funny.

She frowned and decided to try again. “Well, I really am sorry. I know you’re a friend of Joffrey’s and I hope we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

At that, he stopped and grabbed her by both shoulders, stasring her down. She was suddenly very aware that they were in a not particularly well lit stretch of sidewalk, and that she was alone with a dangerous looking man she didn’t know. His grip was almost painful and he looked at her with those crazed eyes glinting in the dark. In her fear she had dropped all her usual defenses and could only stare at his half-ruined face. She wondered what had happened to him. 

“I’m not his friend," he hissed, "I’m his dog, his bodyguard and – for your delicate ears – I take care of people who misbehave. Still so sure you want to see me again?”

He took her silence as an answer and they slowly started walking again. Sansa rubbed her shoulders. She didn’t know what to make of what he said. So sometimes people needed to be – what, frightened? Killed? She supposed in a city full of people with gambling addictions and bad debts that it shouldn’t be so surprising. But did she need to be frightened? She decided she wasn't and wouldn’t be, and mentally she picked back up her weapons. 

“I’d still like to know your name.”

He laughed, and it was a horrible grating sound. “Most people around here just call me the Hound.”

“Well I’m not most people.”

The large man, the Hound, laughed again though it was a different laugh this time. “Of course not, princess.” Despite the poison dripping from his tone, he yielded to her. “Sandor Clegane,” he said very quietly.

“Thank you, Mr. Clegane.”

He snorted. “Save your pretty words princess. You sound like a stupid little chirping bird, a trained parrot.”

She thought about arguing, thought about telling him she wasn’t a princess or a parrot. As she played out different comebacks in her head, they walked the rest of the way to the Stark Hotel in silence. Before they reached the door, she turned to look at him once more. 

“Thank you again, for walking me back. And before you tell me to shut up, just – don’t.”

“I didn’t have much choice in the matter,” he said, not accepting her thanks. His dark eyes roamed her body, lingering on her chest and neck before coming back to rest on her face. “Be careful here,” he said, and he turned and slunk off as quietly as a man that size could, leaving Sansa confused and speechless.


	2. Arya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the positive comments so far, I really appreciate it!

Arya was flipping through a deck of cards when Sansa got back to the hotel suite in the late afternoon from a sightseeing excusion with Joffrey, a dreamy look on her face and shopping bags in her hands. Arya shuffled her deck and decided it was time to test herself. 

“Tell me about your day San.”

Sansa looked mildly surprised, but started setting down her bags and began with enthusiasm, “Well, first we had lunch at this really adorable café and I had these delicious crepes with strawberries and cream, and…”

As Sansa continued, Arya started flipping through the deck again. One, zero, zero, minus one. 

“….Then we rode the gondola at the Venetian and it was so romantic, Joffrey put his arm around me and they sang to us…”

Two, three, two, one. Done. 

“Shit.” Arya muttered. She hadn’t been off on a count for weeks, but apparently a twitterpated Sansa was just what it took. To her sister, she said “Sorry, not you. Continue.” She thoroughly reshuffled the deck and started over. Zero, minus one, zero. 

“… He took me to the shops at Caesar’s and I got this gorgeous Valentino bag, see?”

Minus two. Arya briefly glanced up without really seeing. She would have to be able to look around, act normal, and this was the best practice she would get. She smiled and nodded at her sister before returning to her cards. Minus three, minus two. 

“… Did you know at King’s Landing they stage mock jousts every day? With knights and princesses and horses and everything?”

Zero, one, zero. Yes! 

“That sounds great, San. Hey, I’m going out tonight, will you let dad know?”

* * *

Arya was up about ten grand when she decided to call it for the night. The casino was endlessly disorienting, but despite the energy and light it was almost midnight, and she was extremely lucky not have been approached by any of the casino staff so far. She supposed looking like a silly teenage girl could occasionally be beneficial. Sending a silent thank you to the eyes in the sky, and a verbal thank you and final tip to the dealer, she stood to leave. She wove her way through the laughter, drinks and bodies, and as she cashed out a young man with wavy dark hair and a hesitant but friendly smile approached her. 

“Hey, um,” he hesitated and Arya crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. “We met earlier, well kind of. We were at the table together, before, for a while.”

“Yeah I remember.” She remembered that he had kept trying to talk to her when she needed to concentrate. He had been persistent despite her continued attempts to shut him down. “Gendry right?” 

“Yeah!” He beamed at her. 

“Hard to forget a weird-ass name like that. What do you want?”

He looked only slightly taken aback, and to his credit continued. “If you’re not busy, we’re – some of my friends and me – we’re going to a bar down the street. Would you like to join us? I mean, if you’re not here with anyone. You know, celebrate your big win?”

“Well maybe... Promise it won’t be super lame?” Arya frowned.

“Oh, it almost certainly will be.”

Arya found herself accepting though she wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it sounded marginally more interesting than just going back to the room she shared with her sister. Maybe it was the high from her good night. Maybe this boy was kind of cute in a goofy, annoying sort of way. 

He smiled even wider if that was possible, and led her back to where his friends were standing near the door.

“Guys, this is Arya.” She nodded to them. “Arya, this is Lommy,” a thin, genial looking boy waved, “and Mycah.” By way of greeting his mouth twitched slightly when she looked at him. “And this one goes by Hot Pie, and just trust me when I say you don’t want to know why.” The one called Hot Pie smiled at her, he was a little on the chubby side, and his face read mischief. What an absurd pack, Arya thought. 

After the introductions had been made they all spilled out into the night air and the boys began talking to each other, paying little mind to Arya. It seemed Gendry had come out the best of them, besides her of course, but from what she’d seen when he was at her table that can’t have been all that impressive. Mycah had lost quite a bit of money, and Arya gathered from the others responses that this was a common theme for him. 

“I just had an off night. It happens,” he was saying.

“More like an off year,” Lommy muttered as they entered the bar. 

It was the kind of place Arya preferred, off the beaten path, a little dirty, and with a feeling of having been there forever. They found a table in a corner and all scrunched around. Arya offered to buy the first round, she had a fake ID but knew she wouldn’t need it at a place like this, and instantly they were all her friends. A TV over the bar flickered with the news. Something was on fire; someone had been shot. As the others discussed the merits of going to a strip club later in the week, Gendry blushed and turned to Arya. 

“So you’re visiting?”

“Yeah, isn’t pretty much everyone here?” Arya asked, brushing her hair back out of her face and tucking it behind her ears. 

“Not us, we’re all locals.” His blue eyes squinted, smiling at her.

“I thought locals didn’t go to the casinos.”

“Mostly you're right, hardly ever to the strip casinos anyway. But gambling’s kind of Mycah’s thing, sometimes we go with him.” He paused and stared at Arya. “I’m glad I came along tonight.”

“Why? You pick up tourist girls often?” Arya fiddled with her drink. 

He reached over to touch her hand and she looked up at him. “Never. But after meeting you I figured it was worth a shot.” 

“You really are stupid aren’t you?” she said quietly. 

It wasn’t supposed to be answered, of course, but Arya was surprised when he just smiled in response. He smiled too much, and at her, and it made her uneasy. She was more used to people looking disapprovingly at her. While they were silent, something she heard Hot Pie say turned her attention back to the rest of the conversation. 

“Definitely Sansa Stark. I mean come on, she’s got those innocent eyes but someone like her, that good girl act is definitely a façade. Isn’t that how those rich girls always get famous anyway? You know, Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian. Only a matter of time before someone leaks a – ow! God damn it Arya what is your problem?”

Her hand stung from the slap and she squirmed as Gendry pulled her back across the table. “You shouldn’t say that about people you don’t know. No one would be speculating about a man like that. It’s sexist and crude.” She straightened herself up, pulled her fitted black shirt back down over her hips, and ran her fingers through her long hair to tame it. 

Lommy glared accusingly at Gendry. With a tone of trying to lighten things up he said to Arya, “We were just joking around, not like she’ll ever know or care what a bunch of losers said about her in a bar one night.”

“You think that’s the only reason girls are ever successful? Or only pretty girls? Maybe people like her for her charming personality?” Arya said it lightly, but knew it was true. Her sister grated on every nerve she had, but only because she was a sweetheart. She had lots of famous and influential friends and was well known in the fashion scene. People couldn’t help but like her, unlike Arya who just had several potential friends thrown in her lap and was about five seconds from sending them all running for the door. She had driving people away almost down to an art.

“That’s something you say about an ugly person. Like Lommy here, he has a wonderful personality,” said Hot Pie and gradually they all started laughing, Arya along with them. She’d let it go for now, and she was sure they all knew better than to bring up anything like that again. 

Arya was just thinking how quiet Mycah had been the whole evening when the door swung open bringing in a draft of cool air and a gigantic figure. It was the strange scarred man from the dinner with the Baratheons and Lannisters last night, the one with the crazy eyes who had been watching Sansa and Joffrey very closely all evening. He stalked up to the bar and by the time he reached it the bartender had a shot ready, which the huge man immediately threw back. Arya was struck with the impression that it seemed like a peace offering. 

“It’s the Hound,” Gendry whispered to her, almost reverently. “There’s… lots of stories about what – “ his voice trailed off as the big man approached their table. Arya didn’t think he would remember her, but she hid her face anyway and noticed Gendry did the same.

“You!” the Hound pointed at Mycah. “Outside with me, now.”

A shaking Mycah stood and followed, the others all determinedly pretending not to notice what was going on. Arya watched as Mycah took one look over his shoulder back at the others before leaving the bar. Once they were out the door, Arya looked flabbergasted at the others.

“Is someone going to tell me why we’re all just sitting here?” she demanded.

Gendry put a hand on her arm. “What can any of us do?”

“You saw him,” Hot Pie piped up, “the Hound has a reputation around here as pretty as his face.”

Arya stood and glared at them all. “All the more reason we shouldn’t just let him alone with Mycah like that. I thought you guys were supposed to be his friends, not me.”

“Arya,” Gendry sighed. “If I thought he was in any real danger I would try to help. He’s never said they’ve come after him before. If they still want him to pay, they won’t hurt him too badly. I’m sure they just sent the Hound to scare him.”

“Who’s they?”

“The Lannisters, who own the Lion. Bunch of douchebags.” He kicked the table to make his point. “Own the casino, sure, but then for those who can’t get markers they’ve got their own little side business too.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

“Just hearsay,” Gendry said quickly. “I mean come on, who does stuff like that?”

“Sounds like something in that’s got to be illegal.” She looked around. “I’m going to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” 

She slung her bag across her body and casually walked back to where the restrooms were, hoping there would be a back door. There it was at the end of the hall, propped open with a brick already. Quiet as a cat, she snuck out into the dark alleyway. 

She heard a deep voice like a growling dog say, “Lannisters pay their debts, and don’t take kindly to those who don’t.” 

Arya slunk a little closer, silent and invisible. “Please!” she heard. “I’ll get the money, I just need a little more time.”

“How much time?” The Hound snapped.

“I – a month, give me a month!”

“Two weeks, I’ll come pay you another visit.” 

Arya let out her breath, maybe the others were right and she shouldn’t have been so worried.

“Thank you sir, I – “ Arya heard a loud thunk and then a sob. 

“Don’t fucking call me sir.”

Arya ran out of the shadows to Mycah, where he now huddled on the ground. His nose looked broken and was bleeding, and his upper lip was split, but overall the damage wasn’t bad. Not considering what a man like the Hound could surely do. She looked up at him. 

“Stay out of this, girl,” the Hound rasped. “My business isn’t with you.”

“It is now,” Arya said. “Mycah, go back inside.” He looked bewildered from her to the Hound and back again. She nodded to him and he finally got up and ran back to the door, not stopping to look back. Arya stood and faced down the Hound until she heard the door and was sure Mycah was inside. 

She could see the Hound’s wild eyes widen in recognition. “You’re the other Stark girl.”

“The _other_ Stark girl? Fuck you!”

The Hound seemed somewhat flustered, and Arya was surprised at how little it took to put him on his toes. “Couldn’t let him off too easy or they’ll say I’ve gone soft. A man should pay his debts. Sometimes they needs a little encouragement.” He cracked his knuckles.

“Not like this.” Arya gritted her teeth. “What kind of assholes do you work for anyway?”

The Hound laughed. “Ask your father. Ask your sister. They seem pretty keen on them.” Arya rolled her eyes as the Hound started to walk away, muttering something that sounded like “Fucking Starks.”

Arya shrugged and started to head back to the alley door, and ran straight into something warm and solid. It was Gendry.

“Spy much?” she exclaimed, shoving his chest.

“Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were safe,” he muttered. Then as if he couldn’t help himself, “You’re a Stark? Like a hotel Stark? As in Sansa Stark is your sister?”

She glared at him. “So what.”

“Oh my god, you are. I am going to kill Hot Pie.”

“What is everyone’s deal with my sister? And no, I won’t introduce you.” Arya started walking out of the shadows towards the light of the street, and Gendry ran after her.

“I don’t care about your sister.” He grabbed her arm. “Look, I’m sorry this evening didn’t quite go how I would have liked – "

“It was pretty terrible,” Arya admitted. 

“But I’d like to see you again, if that would be ok with you.” 

Arya thought it through out loud. “You certainly have stupid friends,” she said. He shrugged in agreement. “And you don’t seem to be able to leave me alone or take a hint." She paused and he just looked at her. "But I guess you can walk me back to the hotel if you want.” Gendry grinned. 

“And,” Arya continued, “If you manage not to annoy me too much on the walk back I might even give you my number.”


	3. Sandor

He had seen Sansa Stark in person once before, when she was very young and visiting with her family. She was one of those pretty children, perfect and smiling and oblivious. He had been kept away - they thought he might scare the Stark kids - and she never saw him. 

She’d made an impression then, more for her wide eyed innocence and sweet disposition than anything else, but he hadn't thought of her in the years since. Now though… well, she had turned into a woman. 

He heard Joffrey talk about her to his friends after his New York trip, how she would be coming to visit soon and he’d nail her then. He painted a picture of spoiled, empty-headed tabloid fodder, a hot girl with nothing else to offer. And when she first met his eyes in the restaurant and flinched, he had been ready to accept his boss’ impression.

But then that night as he escorted her back to her father’s hotel she had been so fucking nice, not a little bitch at all. He’d wanted to follow behind her, unobserved as he observed her. But no, she wanted to make conversation, and hadn’t shied away from him like earlier. She wanted to know his real name, as if she actually cared.

She didn’t care, of course, he didn’t delude himself that far. No, she was just a chirping little bird. But she was _nice_. 

Sandor had plenty of reminders of the Stark girl the next few days; he couldn’t seem to be rid of her. First he’d had that run in with her annoying little sister. If he was the kind of man to get embarrassed he might’ve been over that. The second the girl had interfered he’d backed down like a little lap dog. 

Then there was that shit Joffrey, always taking her here or there, trying to impress. Though Sandor hadn’t accompanied them, he had gotten earfuls about it from Joffrey all the same. As Joffrey expounded on the merits of Sansa Stark’s perfect ass and perky tits, Sandor wondered if this girl even knew what kind of game she was playing, if she knew she was the prey. She didn’t seem completely oblivious, but then maybe he’d let himself be dazzled by those blue eyes, the ones that looked him right in his own. He decided she was certainly a bit simple, and that he didn’t care what happened to her.

He told himself he didn’t care as he listened to Robert and Cersei squabble over the deal with the Starks, as they discussed where it was going and strategized on how to get them to commit. He definitely didn’t care as Cersei offhandedly remarked to Joffrey how the deal might go smoother if his relationship with Sansa progressed. And he almost believed himself. 

Then, something terrible happened. 

A few of the girl’s fancy friends were coming into town, and they were going out. Joffrey, enraged that the girl he had set his mark on would be out dancing, drinking and who knows what else without him, graciously offered Sandor’s services to Sansa for the evening, for her safety and that of her friends of course. 

Although nothing could have made Sandor happier than to see her fly out of Joffrey’s grasp, he’d agreed to go and report back to his boss. He’d stay out of the way, lurk in the shadows where he was comfortable, and intervene like a good dog only if the girls actually wanted him to. 

The limo picked the girls up outside of the Stark Hotel. Sandor stood outside, leaning up against the car, arms crossed against his black suit, as they walked out front. They were all smiles and giggles and linked arms, with that cursed vision Sansa in the middle of them. She wore a dark purple dress in a soft looking fabric that hugged her body. As if to make up for the revealing fit, the neckline was modest and the dress fell just below her knees. All around her shoulders was a mass of little purple feathers. Her smoldering hair fell in wild waves almost to her waist. Her eyes were heavily lined, but her lips were bare and he saw them slant a timid smile when she saw him. 

“Thank you for keeping an eye on us tonight, Mr. Clegane. I know we’ll all feel safer with you around.”

Sandor laughed, and the other two girls cringed. “You know it wasn’t my fucking idea, princess.”

She pursed her lips at him. “I’d be concerned if it was.” 

There was a pause as he looked her over again, but Sansa quickly continued, drawing his attention to the others. “Mr. Clegane, this is Margaery, and this is Jeyne.” They both nodded at him in brief acknowledgement, conspicuously avoiding meeting his eyes. 

Sandor knew of Margaery. She was an actress, and though of course he didn’t pay attention to celebrity gossip he’d managed to hear a few things about her myriad relationships. He thought she’d maybe been married once already, to a famous actor. She was pretty enough, with big brown eyes and long lashes, and he’d heard men talk about her though he didn’t understand the fuss. Jeyne he didn’t know. She was tall and thin as a rail, with angular features and dark hair. 

He was either blessed or cursed, charged with watching the three of them for the night. In the car he listened to the girls chatter to each other like hens. Only Sansa spoke to him, some small meaningless pleasantries, and she said very little. The others asked her about her relationship with Joffrey and she blushed prettily, mumbling he’d been very sweet and they’d just have to see. 

They stopped at a trendy club with a stupid name where Sandor wouldn’t have been caught dead without these girls, but they could have been anywhere that night for all he cared. No one bothered him and all he wanted to do anyway was watch Sansa dance. He was hypnotized by her body, which got looser as the night went on, breasts bouncing and hips rolling to the pounding beat in the too dark, too loud club. Everyone wanted to be close to the three of them, tried to take pictures and make small talk, bought them drinks. Sansa danced with her friends and posed for a few pictures with them, very politely declining anyone else who tried to get touchy. Every so often, doubtless conscious of the heat of his gaze on her, she would meet Sandor’s eyes, and every time, unbelievably, she would give him a small smile.

He didn’t know how much time had passed like this, with him watching her dance. He knew she she was aware that he was watching her, but the risk of seeming like a creep was worth it. In the safety of his mind, he could imagine she danced for him, with him, touching him. He felt like such a fucking fool. 

But then there she was, slowly making her way towards his safe, dark corner. Her skin glistened with sweat and her eyes were dark as she sauntered up to him, her face framed in wild hair and feathers. 

“Mr. Clegane,” Sansa beckoned him down to her eye level with a curling index finger and he obliged, his mind going to dangerous places. “I need some fresh air, can we go outside?”

Shit. He nodded. She smiled and walked away and he followed as if on a leash, through the crowded hormonal bodies, out onto the back patio. It was a cool night and no one was outside. 

She turned to face him, leaning back against the railing that surrounded the patio, one foot with a dainty gold heel propped up behind her. He stood awkwardly before her, arms crossed in defense. 

“Dressing up like a little bird now too?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.

“What?” she asked, startled out of her thoughts.

“Your feathers.” He gestured to her dress. “Pick that out just for me?”

She looked down at both her shoulders, as if she had forgotten what she was wearing. “Oh!” She ran her manicured fingers through the plumage in question and looked back up at him. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

“You mean you didn’t just want to get me all alone?” If he was going to be warned away he might as well have some fun first. He took a step closer to her. 

She faltered. “I mean, I did want to talk to you alone.” 

“Just talk? Didn’t think you enjoyed my conversation.”

“That’s not – “ She frowned and shook her head slightly. “Can you be serious, just for a few minutes?”

“I’m always serious.” 

Sansa looked hard at him for a moment, considering his answer, before she continued. “How long have you worked for Joffrey’s family?”

“Almost fifteen years, why?” 

“You know them pretty well then.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Might be.”

Sansa bit her lip. He could almost feel how soft and plump it was under her teeth. 

“Look,” she continued, “you seem… straightforward. If I ask you something, will you answer me honestly and not tell anyone I asked?”

He’d do anything she wanted of him. There were a million things he hoped she’d ask but he was pretty sure she wasn’t thinking along those lines. He gave her a twisted smile and took a step closer, they were almost touching now and he could feel the heat from her body. 

“You think you can trust me?” he whispered, hands grasping onto the railing on each side of her. 

Sansa held her ground and looked him straight in the eyes. He could feel her gaze raking through his mind, blue eyes staring right at his soul. 

“There you are!!” Margaery came squealing through the door and Sandor sprang back to a respectable distance from Sansa. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Jeyne’s gotten sick.” She rolled her eyes. “I think we need to head back to the hotel.”

“Oh of course,” Sansa said, shooting an apologetic look at Sandor. He could have killed that bitch Margaery. 

He followed the mesmerizing sway of Sansa’s backside as the girls re-entered the club, found their friend and each took one of her arms. He was captivated by her kind smiles and soothing touches, and wondered if he’d gotten trashed instead of the friend if she would have those for him. 

When they got to the hotel he held the car door open for the girls and helped them get Jeyne inside. At the entrance to the hotel, as he was about to turn to leave and call an end to this extremely frustrating night, Sansa turned to him and whispered “What you asked me earlier?” she stood on her toes to get closer to his ear, on the unscarred side of his face. “Yes,” she said, before continuing into the building with her friends as if nothing had happened. 

He watched her disappear into the elevator before returning to the car.

* * *

Later, when he was alone, memories of the night came flooding back. With his eyes closed he could see her dancing, see the way she moved and he imagined how she would move with him. He had studied her enough to picture how she would roll her hips, how her skin would glisten, how she would bite her lip. He remembered the way she had looked at him, right at him, when they were alone outside, the heat he felt from her body. He saw her as when they had parted, and heard in his mind her whispered “Yes.”


	4. Sansa

“Jeez, Sansa, you’re welcome.”

The three girls were in a king bed back in Margaery’s suite, Jeyne passed out on her stomach, Sansa and Margaery curled up facing each other in the dark. 

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know Miss Alone in the Dark with the Bodyguard,” Margaery mocked. 

“Oh my god, seriously? I just needed to step outside for a minute, and Joffrey wanted him to keep an eye on me.” Ever since Margaery interrupted their conversation out on the patio, Sansa had known this was going to come up. Even though though they’d just been talking, it somehow felt like she’d been caught doing something illicit. 

“Really. And that’s why afterwards he was following you around like a giant puppy with googly eyes.”

“No he – was he really?” Sansa clapped a hand over her mouth as soon as she asked the question. Margaery was making things up, surely, and she’d only baited her by acting interested. 

“Sansa sweetie, you’re beautiful, he’d be stupid not to be looking at you.” She sighed. “Hey, even though you are majorly out of his league, in the dark I guess his face wouldn’t be too bad, and if he’s that big all over…”

“Stop teasing me, you’re being ridiculous. If you want to know the truth…” Sansa could feel the bed move as Margaery nodded vigorously. “I was going to ask him about Joffrey, you know, get the inside scoop.”

Margaery considered. “Oh, well that actually makes sense, you haven’t lost your mind after all. Sorry if I interrupted, but seriously, the way he was looking at you…” Sansa hit her lightly on the arm. “Really, how are things going with the famous Joffrey Baratheon?”

“Ok I guess.”

“Sansa.”

“He’s been very nice. He’s been showing me around town, and we went out to eat at this really nice restaurant yesterday, Aureole? We’re going to a cirque du soleil show tomorrow…” she trailed off, out of anything of substance to say. 

“Uh-huh. How is he in bed?” 

“Oh my god, we haven’t… you know I don’t do that with anyone unless I’m sure we’re exclusive. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about the Prince Harry fiasco.”

Margaery sighed dramatically. “How could I? You two would have made such adorable ginger babies. Well, are you seeing anyone else?” 

“No, of course not,” Sansa answered swiftly.

“Do you think he is?” Margaery laid a soft hand on Sansa’s arm. 

She thought for a moment. “We’ve only had a couple of actual dates, I don’t know that the sightseeing really counts. He kissed me yesterday after dinner and invited me up.” He’d had too much to drink at dinner and had gotten touchy, and was upset when she declined his invitation. The next morning he had showered her with apologies for his behavior, but it unsettled her. 

“And the answer to my question is….” Margaery prodded.

“I’m not sure. I just don’t feel he’s committed to me.” Sansa hadn’t really thought this yet, but the moment she said it she knew it was true. Sure, they hadn’t been seeing each other long but despite the fact that he continued to ask her out, she just didn’t get the feeling that he was all that interested. 

“Do you want me to find out?” Margaery asked in a teasing voice.

“Actually…” Sansa started.

“I wasn’t serious,” her friend said quickly. 

“No, I don’t think it’s a bad idea. You’re not seeing anyone right now are you? And I know it takes some major willpower to turn you down.” 

Margaery gasped. “You want me to hit on your man? I take back that part where I said you hadn’t lost your mind.”

Sansa smiled and shook her head. “No, I want you to hit on Joffrey Baratheon to find out whether he is my man. If he turns you down, I’ll know for sure that he’s serious about me. If not, well, we’ll just see where things go.”

“If you’re sure…” Margaery moved her hand to lightly touch Sansa’s cheek. 

“I’m sure. Maybe I can figure out a time that the two of you can run into each other in the next few days.”

“Ok, but Sansa, if he doesn’t turn me down…” she hesitated.

“As far as you want to take it.” 

Margaery tucked a strand of Sansa’s hair behind her ear. “Ok sweetie. I’ll do whatever you want, but you just let me know if you change your mind.”

* * *

When Sansa woke, the room was bright and she knew at the very least they were well into the morning. Jeyne and Margaery were still asleep, so Sansa carefully extricated herself from Margaery’s arms and crept into the bathroom. 

Wide eyed, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was like a wild creature and dark lines ran down under her eyes. Hoping she wouldn’t wake the others, she started running herself a bath. Somehow that always made her feel human again. She rummaged through Margaery’s bath products and chose a few things, though the selection was overwhelmingly floral scented. She’d known she would stay the night, but had really just planned on going back up to her room in the penthouse once they all woke and had only brought a few essentials. 

Sansa stripped off her grey silk tank and shorts and stepped into the hot water. As she sank down into the comforting warmth she reflected on last night. For the first time since she’d come here she’d had a really nice time, just letting loose with friends. She regretted she hadn’t had a chance to talk to Mr. Clegane about Joffrey, but then with her new plan she might not need to. And had he really been looking at her last night like Margaery said? She shampooed and conditioned her hair, and washed the night off with a rose scented body wash. 

She had a feeling that with Joffrey she couldn’t rely on his words, she needed his actions to show the true depth of his interest. She was disappointed that he just wasn’t quite living up to her expectations so far, but if she was honest with herself those expectations were built from childhood idolization and a lifetime of fanciful embellishment. He was pleasant enough company, but she couldn’t tell if he actually liked her or was just being polite. 

She wished for a second that he could just be more open and honest, but then remembered that when she was around people who were – like Mr. Clegane or Arya – she always ended up frustrated.

Arya, oh shoot! They were supposed to have lunch today. 

Sansa scrambled out of the bath and checked her phone. The battery was dead. She wrapped herself in a towel and snuck out into the room, where the clock said it was 12:27. They were supposed to meet blocks from here at 12:30. 

Sansa pulled on the only change of clothes she had, black leggings, Rag and Bone ankle boots and a loose Free People top and then touched Margaery’s shoulder to wake her. 

“What’s the matter sweetie?” she mumbled. 

“I’ve got to go meet Arya. I’ll call you later ok?”

And without waiting for a response she grabbed her purse and ran out the door. 

The restaurant was farther than Sansa had thought. The hotel concierge drew her a map an at aggravatingly leisurely pace, like he was trying to prolong his conversation with her, and she hadn’t the heart to cut him off. But from what she gathered from the few short lines it looked walkable. As a New Yorker, she usually thought nothing of long walks and rather enjoyed them, being out in the energy and life of a city, but her feet ached from dancing in heels all last night. After a few wrong turns she finally found her self approaching the restaurant, the smell of greasy burgers wafting down the street.

It was a dive, some place Arya had picked out after seeing it on the Food Network or something, a tiny place with neon lights and it looked packed. 

As Sansa opened the door to go inside, she ran full on into her sister. 

“Wow, San, you look like shit.”

“I am so sorry, I was out late and I overslept and my phone died,” Sansa hurried out her excuses. “But I’m here now, let’s go inside.” 

Arya rolled her eyes and kept moving out the door. “Too late. I already ate. Sat at the bar, talked to the manager. Had a great time, too bad you missed it.”

“Oh my god!” Sansa chased after her. “What time is it, am I really that late?”

Arya stopped. “It’s 1:15. I know because I’ve been checking my phone every two minutes waiting for you to show. I am really absolutely at the bottom of your priority list aren’t I?”

Sansa made to grab Arya’s arm but her sister started walking away again. “No, Arya, I am really so sorry. Let me make it up to you. Maybe tomorrow we can – “

“Screw tomorrow. Just stop pretending you even want to spend time with me and it will be easier for us both.” And she stormed off, pulling her black hood up over her head. 

Sansa thought for a moment about chasing her, apologizing again, but instead started to slowly retrace her steps and make her way back to the hotel to get cleaned up. Her crumbling relationship with her sister would have to wait for another day. All she needed right now was for some jerk to snap a picture of her like this. And she was seeing Joffrey again later. She doubted he would appreciate her current state.

* * *

The cirque du soleil show was wonderful. Sansa loved all the decadent costumes and the truly incredible things the performers could do with their bodies. They had excellent seats of course. As Joffrey said, nothing but the best for her. 

But she kept replaying some of the texts Arya had sent her while waiting in the restaurant, formulating responses hours too late. _I bet you’re with that shit head right now. Do you even know what his family really does?_ She thought she did, maybe she didn’t. _I ran into that big ugly man of theirs the other night. Did they tell you what he does for them?_ They hadn’t, but he had. _Wow, I really thought you were just going to be late, not stand me up completely._ Well, she had shown up eventually. 

She didn’t understand why Arya hated Joffrey and his family so much, they had never done anything to her. She glanced over at Joffrey who smiled brightly at her, and she gave him a small smile back. He was everything she had ever thought she wanted. He was movie star handsome with his blonde hair and green eyes, well brought up with refined taste, intelligent, and of her social standing. 

When she pictured herself getting married someday, with a full page in Town and Country splattered with smiling pictures of the beautiful couple, she pictured herself with someone just like him. Often, she did picture herself with him. It would be a newsworthy match. He’d recently been named one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. They just seemed right for each other; on paper it all made sense.

After the show, Joffrey took her back to the Lion to meet some of his friends. He’d texted her a few hours before picking her up for dinner, asking her to wear something sexy for him. She’d chosen a dark grey Halston Heritage jumpsuit with a low halter neck and open back. She wore red lipstick and her hair was deeply parted to the side and swept over one shoulder. 

The friends were introduced but didn’t pay Sansa much attention past looking her over and giving appreciative nods to Joffrey. She saw one of them, Meryn, give him a fist pump when he thought she wasn’t looking. Joffrey slung his arm around her and plied her with drinks, calling her his good luck charm and taking her from table to table. 

While Joffrey was laughing over something with his friends she quickly texted Margaery, asking her to come over to the Lion, and to let her know when she was there. 

As Sansa declined a third drink she got a text back from her friend. 

She touched Joffrey’s arm, turning his attention away from the roulette table and his friends. “Hey,” she said softly. “I think I’m going to head back, it’s getting late.”

Joffrey looked taken aback. “But babe, it’s not even midnight yet. And you’re supposed to be my luck,” he protested.

“Here,” she said, and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “That’s for good luck.”

He grabbed her waist before she could move away and kissed her mouth, hand sliding down to give her backside a squeeze before letting her move away. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. 

She smiled sweetly at him and said goodbye to all his friends before heading for the exit, texting Margaery to come on inside.

They passed going through the doors. Neither of them slowed down or stopped, but Sansa glanced up and blushed, and Margaery smirked at her before going inside. Sansa shook her head slightly at herself as she stepped out into the night air. 

Outside she saw the scarred man, Sandor Clegane, pacing around in the dark. He looked as if something was troubling him, and was so distracted that he didn’t notice her until she was about three feet from him. 

“Excuse me,” she peeped, “Is everything alright?”

He gave her a half scowl. “Don’t see how it’s your fucking business.”

“Very well,” she started slowly moving away.

“You’re leaving then,” he said darkly. 

She nodded, looking back at him. “I was.”

“Do you – would you like me to walk with you?” he lurched towards her, towering above her even in her heels. “No one would bother you with me around, they’re all scared of me.”

Sansa looked him in the eyes for several long seconds. She was confused by his behavior, snapping at her one second and offering to protect her the next. 

“Why is that?” she asked softly.

“They should be,” he stared down at her, so close now that she could feel his breath, and she was suddenly very conscious of every inch of her exposed skin. “Maybe you should be too.”

She thought about what he said, what Margaery had told her about the way he looked at her. But if this man had any intention of hurting her he already would have. She’d abandoned her fear of him that first night when they spoke.

She didn’t tell him this, somehow she thought he might take offense to it. Instead she said, “I would be glad to have your company. It’s not far, I won’t take much of your time.”

He just stared at her so she started on down the sidewalk, knowing he would follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. Arya is up next :)


	5. Arya

Arya was getting tired of always being mad at her sister. It was exhausting but there was just no way around it. If only Sansa would stop doing things that deserved it. After she got back to the hotel from their failed lunch date she was just itching to let off some steam. 

Her phone dinged with a text. Probably Sansa, trying to apologize, as if that actually made anything better. In her mind she shook her sister by the shoulders, telling her that her stupid words don’t mean anything if her actions say something else. 

To her surprise, her father was there in the suite, papers and folders strewn out around his computer on the dining table. He rubbed his eyes and looked at her.

“Hey, how was lunch?”

She glared at him. “Ask Sansa.”

Ned cocked his head and looked at her, concerned. “I would, but I feel like I’ve hardly seen her since we’ve been here. Is everything alright?”

“Peachy keen,” Arya replied, really not wanting to have this conversation with him right now. 

Her father sighed and looked closely at her. To avoid his visual interrogation, Arya pulled out her phone and looked at her text, running the risk that it would make her even more upset. It was not Sansa, but the nice boy she’d met a few days ago. 

He’d texted her only once before now, not abusing the privilege of having her number, to say how nice it was to meet her and that hoped he’d be able to see her again. 

_The guys and I are going to watch the game, same place as before. You know how they are. I could really use your company…_

It was clever of him, not to ask her on a date, and she found herself agreeing with him that he certainly needed her to go. She texted back, not saying she would be there but asking what time.

* * *

Watching the game in the dingy bar was surprisingly not so bad. Hot Pie and Lommy were rooting for different teams and things got very heated, culminating in them throwing peanut husks at each other. Gendry determinedly remained neutral, proclaiming that he was Switzerland. He was attentive to Arya but not smothering, and appeared to have not said anything to the others about her family. 

As they all stumbled out of the bar into the evening, Gendry waved the others along and hung back with Arya. He was looking curiously at her and she waited, one hand on her hip, for him to speak.

“Do you have dinner plans?” he finally asked.

She shrugged. “Nope. I'm all on my lonesome.”

“Can I get you something to eat? I mean, I wouldn’t want you to go hungry.”

Arya put on a serious face. “That would really be a tragedy, you don’t want to see how I get when I’m hungry.”

He beamed and offered his arm to her, as if she was some kind of girly girl like her sister. She made a face and shook her head at him, then took his hand instead, inwardly pleased with the shocked look on his face. His hand was warm and solid and strong. 

“Where should we go?” she asked. 

“I think I know a place you’ll like,” he said, as they both started moving down the sidewalk. “It’s a favorite of mine, not far from here. You like breakfast food?”

“Most important meal of the day – can’t hurt to have it twice.” 

They sat side by side at the bar in the little diner, over plates of pancakes and bacon drenched in syrup. Arya became annoyed with Gendry’s growing awe at how much food she could put away.

“Something bothering you?” she asked.

“No, I’m just impressed. I hate it when girls hardly touch their food.”

Arya shrugged. “I have a high metabolism, I’m pretty active.”

“What do you do?” he asked.

“Lots of martial arts, kickboxing.” She shoved another huge bite of pancake in her mouth. “And I teach self-defense to the rich girls.”

The corner of Gendry’s mouth twitched. “The other rich girls you mean?”

Arya glared at him. “I’m not like them.”

“Oh, I know that.” He shook his head, wide eyed. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

She brushed aside the comment, which was probably intended as a compliment but stung Arya a little. She knew she was different. In a society where everyone wanted someone like her sister, sweet and polite and pretty, she was reminded all too often of the areas in which she was lacking. 

“What about you?” she asked instead, nodding towards his arms, amazed with herself that she hadn't noticed before how toned they were. 

“Oh,” he said, shrugging. “My job’s pretty strenuous, I get a good workout there.”

Arya was slightly surprised to find herself genuinely interested in his life. “What do you do?”

He looked away from her. “Metal fabrication, welding. Nothing glamorous.”

“That’s cool,” Arya said, and meant it. “I think it would be awesome to learn to weld.”

Encouraged by her response, Gendry leaned in closer. “I could show you some other time if you want. I have a small workshop of my own, not anything fancy but it does the job.”

“I think I’d like that,” she said. “Shut up so I can finish my food, and then let’s go.”

When their meal was finished and paid for (separately, as Arya insisted) he drove her farther out in the city to an industrial looking area, and pulled up to a small garage. 

“I rent this space,” Gendry told her, pulling the small garage door up. “For my side projects.” He stopped her before she could go inside. “Look, this is pretty personal, and I wasn't expecting company.” He looked into her eyes for several long seconds. “I hope you don’t think it’s stupid.”

Arya frowned at him, not understanding. He stepped aside and they both went into the garage. Arya’s mouth gaped open as he flipped on the lights and she started to look around. It was fantastic. The place was filled with metal creatures, animals made from metal odds and ends, gears, springs and other scraps. In the center of the room was the most impressive one, a large bull looking ready to charge. 

“This is wonderful,” she gasped, looking at him in amazement. “You did all this? I can’t believe you thought I’d say it was stupid.”

“I just hoped you wouldn’t. And thank you.”

“Do you sell them?” she asked, her hand running down the back of a large cat. 

Gendry nodded. “Sometimes. I’ve done a few shows and people seem to like them.”

Arya walked to the bull in the middle of the room to inspect it closer. “This one I love,” she announced, after giving it a good look over. 

He smiled. “The bull is kind of my trademark, I’ve done several of them and they’re good sellers.”

Arya was no artist, a lot of art was too stuffy and fanciful for her taste. Somehow this, though, with the hard scraps of metal, discarded and then salvaged and combined into something new, really appealed to her. They had all been broken things, and now were part of something their original creators never would have imagined, different than they were ever intended to be.

“I’m glad you showed me,” Arya said. “You should try to find a place in New York to show them, people there would just eat this up.”

He didn’t say anything, but moved closer to her and touched her arm. The proximity made her strangely uncomfortable, and she couldn’t quite think straight.

Arya had lots of friends who were boys; she had always seemed to fit in with them better than with other girls. As she and they got older, however, they started to see her more as a girl and were disappointed when she didn’t fit the mold. She’d made the mistake of trying to date a few of them, and it would go okay for a little while but then they always seemed to want her to be something she wasn’t. She didn’t take well to people trying to change her, and consequently nothing had ever been even remotely serious. This boy though, he seemed to actually like her, and she certainly had made no attempts to hide who she was. He was nice, and dependable, and creative, and not like her at all. 

“Have you ever made a wolf?” she asked suddenly.

The question had the intended effect as he dropped his hand and thought. “No,” he said, “just a few dogs.” 

“You should make a wolf,” she told him. “I like them. They’re like my spirit animal or something.”

He smiled. "Then I will. Maybe I can send you a picture when it’s done.”

That didn't sit quite right with Arya for some reason. “Maybe I can come see it.” Before he could say anything she continued, “Do you draw?”

“A little, why?”

“Because,” Arya replied, “I want to get a tattoo of a howling wolf, right here,” she reached around and patted her left shoulder blade. 

“And you’d like me to design it for you?”

“Why not?” She shrugged. 

He nodded solemnly. “It would be an honor.”

She smacked his arm. “Well if you’re going to be like that – “

He put his hands up in defeat. “I’d be happy to, if you'd like.” She nodded. “Let's sit down and you can tell me what you want.”

* * *

The following afternoon found Arya yet again with Gendry, walking into a randomly chosen tattoo parlor with his sketch clutched in her determined hands. 

The artist made only a few hard bargained tweaks to the design and before Arya knew it she was whisked away to the chair, Gendry tailing her in support. He'd kind of gotten roped into being her companion on this trip; she didn't really have anyone else so he would have to do. Not like she could do this with her father or sister. Her mood brightened when she saw how heavily he blushed when she removed her shirt. Looking away, he told her she was going to do great, and promised to feed her again afterwards. 

It was Arya’s first tattoo. She’d had this one in mind for years, but was always worried that the artist wouldn’t be able to execute her vision the way she wanted it. Having Gendry sketch it out first, and seeing that what he came up with from her description was exactly what she had in mind, finally made her able to move forward with it. Somehow too, it helped that he was there with her, a steady presence holding her hand. 

The artist washed up and put on gloves, then began his work. It didn’t hurt much after the first few minutes, it was more like a strong tingle. She smiled at Gendry and let go of his hand, as if telling him she was okay and that he could relax. She settled in to the sensations on her back, focusing on how it felt. It was a nice distraction, to just feel this mild pain and nothing else.

Her design was not huge, and was done in one sitting. The artist showed her the final product and she was more than pleased. A large grey and white wolf stood strong, head back, forever suspended in a howl. Arya thought the wolf’s eyes looked lonely, but its stance was strong. The tattoo was bandaged and Arya replaced her t-shirt. 

Outside, as they meandered down the street, Arya took Gendry’s hand again. It was starting to feel familiar and comforting. 

“That was amazing,” she said, leaning down on his arm to pull him closer to her. “Now every time I look at it I’ll remember who designed it for me.”

He looked at her but didn’t say anything, just smiled at her with those pretty eyes. 

Outside the restaurant, again randomly chosen for its location just a block away, she stopped and pulled him around to face her. Determined, she started moving towards him and he stumbled backwards into the wall, which halted his retreat. 

Her head wonderfully clear after the hours spent in the tattoo parlor earlier, Arya finally thought she knew what she wanted. Not for the future maybe, or even tomorrow. But right now, in this moment, she wanted to know what Gendry’s mouth felt like on hers. 

Since he was unable to escape, she leaned in close, body brushing up against him from her chest to her hips. She grabbed him behind the neck with both hands and pulled him in, lips pushed hard against his, open and forceful. He responded gently and she gradually softened her approach in kind. He wrapped his arms around her low back, carefully avoiding her new tattoo. Arya slowly pulled away, giving him one last quick parting peck on the lips. With a wink, she grabbed his hand and pulled him onward towards the restaurant. 

“I’m still hungry,” she told him.

As they went inside, Gendry still in stunned silence, Arya thought now that maybe this trip wasn’t such a disaster after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know it's pretty traditional for modern AU Gendry to be a mechanic, but a welder just seemed right to me. Hope you all like it :) Thanks for all the amazing feedback so far, you guys have been great. 
> 
> Sandor is up again next.


	6. Sandor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a busy week but finally here is another chapter. I really appreciate all the comments and positive feedback :) 
> 
> Sansa's up next, and there may be a tournament involved...

The little bird was having dinner with Joffrey again. Somehow she still wanted to see him, like she actually enjoyed his company. Sandor knew how important outside appearances were, probably better than anyone, but it still infuriated him that she could be with that shiny golden twat. He knew that Joffrey was reasonably good at acting like a decent human being when he wanted to. Not as good at it as his sociopath mother, but he was still learning. Not for the first or last time he cursed a universe that could give such horrible people an appearance of goodness. 

He knew he couldn’t just warn her away. It could come off as if he just wanted her for himself. Which he did, but – 

Last night he’d gotten back to the Lion and over the security cameras saw Sansa there, with Joffrey’s arm slung low around her, and he’d had to leave. He’d still been fuming outside when she found him. 

She'd figure it out. She’d fly away from Joffrey and back to New York and he would probably never see her again. As much as that pained him, it was still better than the alternative. He might be a selfish bastard, but he couldn’t find it in himself to wish for her to stay just so he could catch an occasional glimpse. 

He couldn’t rationalize his obsession. Most people were assholes and deserved all the shit they got themselves into. Maybe there was even a woman out there who deserved someone like Joffrey. But not Sansa. She should have someone who would worship her. 

Finished with his tasks for the evening, he stopped at a bar for a few drinks to distract himself from imagining Joffrey and Sansa at dinner, giggling over fancy food and wine, and of what might happen after. Instead of dulling the anger, that part of him that found twisted satisfaction in his own suffering grew stronger. Before long, he found himself stalking the shadows in front of the Stark hotel. 

Sandor wasn’t quite sure what he hoped to do. Was it just being closer to her? What if she didn’t come back here tonight? What if she did and she was with Joffrey? What would he do if she was alone? He continued to drink from the flask hidden in his pocket as he waited in the dark. A limo pulled into the circle drive and he watched from a distance as the blond brat emerged, then held out his hand for Sansa. 

Sandor watched her smiling at Joffrey, saw their hands still clasped as he walked her to the door. He was touching her bare arms, then her shoulder, and now her cheek. Hand behind her head, fingers in that gorgeous silky hair, Joffrey was pulling her close and kissing her. Sandor felt all his blood turn to fire as Joffrey’s other hand dropped slowly down her back, past her slender waist, pawing greedily at her perfect round ass. 

After an eternity Sansa pulled away with a smile, mouth moving as she looked to the door. Sandor saw Joffrey gesture towards the hotel, smirking. Just when he thought he was really about to lose it, he noticed Sansa shaking her head. She reached out to touch Joffrey's face but he had moved too far away. After a few moments of conversation that Sandor was too far to hear, Joffrey kissed Sansa’s hand and got back into the limo. 

Sandor kept out of sight as the car drove off, and once it was gone he glanced back to the doors of the hotel. The little bird was there still, the lights from inside shining behind her and framing her like a halo. 

Just as he began to feel like he could breathe normally again she started to move slowly, casually in his direction. Surely she couldn’t see him, hidden in the dark. 

She looked right at him for a moment before settling herself gracefully down on a bench nearby. Unable to resist the unspoken invitation, Sandor followed and sat beside her, with his good side facing her. She didn’t look at him or say anything for a long time, so he finally spoke. 

“He’s used to getting what he wants, you know.”

Sansa looked down at her small white hands. “I know.” Still looking down she continued. “Why do we always end up alone together at night?”

“The dark is when people are most true to who they really are, less inhibited. Plus, you may have noticed, I’m not very pretty to look at, the dark's a better look for me.”

She shook her head, but he wasn't sure what she was disagreeing with. “So the night makes us honest?”

“More so. Some folks will never be, but they hide better in the bright light of day.”

Sansa looked at him, studying him closely. Was she going to ask what he was doing here? Did she already know? 

“What are they like, the Baratheons and Lannisters?”

Sandor was surprised. “You’re asking my opinion?”

“No,” she said. “Not opinion, just facts. Just the truth.”

He frowned at her. “I’ve always worked for the Lannisters, only know the Baratheons in passing.”

She just looked at him and waited. He wasn’t answering her and she knew it. 

“What kind of people are the Lannisters?” he asked himself out loud, thinking for a long time how best to present her with the truth she thought she wanted. “They loved my brother,” he said finally, as if that would tell her everything she needed to know. 

“Your brother?” Sansa asked. 

“Yes, little parrot. I’m nothing compared to him,” he told her. “He’s a real specimen.” He settled back on the bench and took another drink from his flask. “My older brother, Gregor, he always had a gift for fear and pain. He used to hurt the neighborhood animals, before he moved on to greater things. They said my sister fell; I never believed it but I can’t prove it. But then, they also said my face was an accident.”

He’d almost forgotten that she was there, and in any case he couldn’t stop now. He was no longer on a dark bench, but in an old haunt of his memory. “It was Christmas. I was seven, and he was eleven. We’d opened our presents in the living room, in front of the fire. Gregor was unimpressed and had gone off somewhere. He’d gotten a toy soldier that I liked, and he’d made it clear he didn’t care for it. I was sitting there playing with it when he came back. He never said anything, just grabbed me and pushed my face down in the fire. Just a kid with a toy. I can still hear myself screaming when I sleep. My father told everyone it was an accident, and between him and Gregor no one believed me. My father had worked for the Lannisters before, for Joffrey’s grandfather, Tywin. Once my brother was old enough he followed in his path. He only became worse, and they adored him. And me, growing up with this face and in my brother’s shadow? Well, they offered me a decent gig and saw my appearance as an asset. They liked the monster that my brother made.”

Sansa was looking right at him, wide blue eyes full of something that looked only a little like pity. She laid one dainty hand down softly on his large, rough one, and he felt warmth spreading out from every point of contact. 

“He’s the monster,” she said quietly. 

His mind now drawn back to the present, he suddenly realized what he’d told her. 

“Now look,” he growled, startling her, “If you ever tell anyone what I’ve just told you – “

“I won’t,” she quickly promised. 

“No one knows,” he continued, unconvinced. “I hear it anywhere, and I’ll know it’s come from you.” He leaned in close, “I swear, I hear so much as a fucking whisper – “

She squeezed his hand, as if to reassure him, never looking away. “No one will ever hear it from me, I promise. Thank you for trusting me with this.”

He snorted and withdrew his hand. Is that what he had done? He rubbed both hands over his temples, as always feeling the stark difference in what lay under each hand as he ran them down his face. 

“What happened to him?” Sansa asked.

“He finally went too far, messed with the wrong person. You know the Martells?” Sansa nodded. “Of course you do, everyone does. You remember the story of Elia Martell? You would’ve been very young.”

“Wasn’t she killed?” 

“Raped and murdered by my brother. He’d done as bad before, but here he made a mistake thinking a Martell was just like anyone else. No, Elia was rich, young and beautiful. You can’t do that to someone like her and get away with it. Not even the Lannisters could save him after that.”

Sansa looked more troubled by this last bit than anything else he’d said. He supposed she didn’t realize that’s how it was, that some lives were just more important than others. She still believed there was good in the world, and here he was filling her pretty head with horrible things. 

They sat for a while in silence before she finally stood to leave. 

“Goodnight, Sandor,” she said quietly, starting back to the hotel entrance, to the light. He thought he had never before seen her look quite so beautiful.


	7. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a while to feel right. Hope you all like it :) Arya's next. Feedback continues to be very much appreciated!

The next morning found Sansa poorly rested and with a still churning mind, after spending the night with blurred thoughts and dreams of the troubling story she'd been told. She wished she had been able to respond better, or say something helpful, but nothing could possibly measure up to the depth of what he had told her. He’d said no one else knew, and maybe even now he regretted telling her. He’d given her a power over him, told her his secret. She would show him she could be relied upon, that she wouldn’t abuse the trust he’d placed in her.

She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be put through something that horrible by her own family. Her own petty gripes with her sister just seemed so stupid in comparison. Arya had already been in bed with her headphones on when Sansa got back to the room last night, her back toward Sansa’s bed. Periodically her phone would ding but otherwise she made no sound. 

As the morning light traveled across the room, Sansa crawled into bed with her sister, wrapping her long limbs around her sister’s, which were covered in an oversized t-shirt. Sansa pulled her into a hug and whispered in her ear, “I love you, Arya. You know that, right?” 

Arya seemed to wince a little against her sister’s face on her shoulder. She rubbed her eyes and wriggled around to face Sansa. “What’s wrong?”

Sansa smiled but tears welled up in her eyes. “Nothing. You’re so smart, and brave, and honest, and I love you and want to make sure you know that.”

“I know you do.” Arya frowned at her. “Do you want something?”

“No silly,” Sansa kissed her sister’s forehead and then turned her eyes into the pillow to wipe them dry. “Go back to sleep, I’ll see you later.” 

Sansa dressed in a suede wrap skirt and pink gingham Mark Jacobs cardigan, and braided her hair in a loose fishtail braid down her back before heading into the living area. 

Her father was sitting on the couch and talking on his cell phone. Sansa sneaked up behind him and gave him a kiss on his open cheek. He smiled at her before turning back to his phone. 

“I’ll call you later Cat,” he said, “I love you.”

Sansa sat down on the couch next to him, tucking her feet up under herself. “Hey daddy.” 

“Good morning sweetheart, it’s good to see you.” Ned studied her, looking her carefully up and down as if for any signs of damage. 

“I know I haven’t spent much time with you since I’ve been here,” Sansa started, to preempt what she thought he would say, “but you’ve been working a lot and – “

He cut her off, “I know you’ve been seeing a lot of Joffrey, and I think that’s great.”

“You do?” she asked. 

“Of course,” Ned replied, stroking a strand of her hair that wisped down around her face. “He’s Robert’s son, and seems like a very nice, well-brought up young man. I’ve been talking to your mother about him and she’s very pleased too. We’ve never had to worry about you, and I can’t tell you how nice that is.”

“Unlike Arya, you mean?” she whispered. 

“And Robb, apparently. Your mom was just telling me about his new girlfriend. I guess she had lunch with them yesterday. You and I know she was hoping Robb would take an interest in one of the Frey girls. She said this girlfriend seemed like a sweet girl, but her family is questionable and I think there’s some concern about her intentions.”

“Isn’t she in medical school?” Sansa asked.

Ned thought about it for a minute. “I think you’re right. But a good family is so important, Sansa. The three of you will always have to be cautious of people’s intentions, unfortunately.”

Sansa gave him a small smile and looked away. “It’s only been like a week, dad. I don’t even know if things will go anywhere with Joffrey.”

He smiled at her and resumed stroking her hair. “We’ll see, sweetie. Robert and I have always hoped the two of you would get together, you know?”

“I need to go,” Sansa said, getting up quickly from the couch and away from the uncomfortable conversation. “I’m meeting Margaery and Jeyne for brunch.”

“Ok, well, I guess I’ll see you at the tournament this afternoon?” Robert was hosting a massive poker tourney at King’s Landing today, theoretically in celebration of the Starks. The families would be having dinner together before the final table. 

“Am I supposed to be there for the whole thing?” she asked. “I mean, I know I need to be there before dinner…”

Her father frowned at her. “Yes, I think you’re expected to be there.” 

Arya popped her disheveled head out of the bedroom door. “I’m playing, so you should come watch me kick everyone’s ass.”

“Even mine?” Ned asked her.

“Especially yours.” Arya bounced out of the room in her pajamas, taking Sansa’s recently vacated spot on the couch. “If I’m already out do I have to stay for dinner?”

“Yes, you do.”

“Ugh, but it’s going to be so boring. I’ll be like the only normal person there.”

“Arya!” Sansa crossed her arms. “I’ll hang out with you.”

“No you won’t, you’ll be with Joffrey. Hey, could I bring someone?”

Sansa and Ned both stared at her. “Who?” they asked. 

Arya shrugged. “A friend. Am I allowed to have friends?”

Her father put his hand on her knee. “It probably wouldn’t be best since I’m not hosting. And if I may ask, do you think this friend would be comfortable at a formal dinner with such high profile guests?”

“Probably not,” Arya admitted, “but neither am I.”

Ned smiled, “Maybe the three of us can have dinner with this friend another night?”

Arya raised a suspicious eyebrow at him. “Maybe.”

* * *

Joffrey and Ned were both out of the tournament fairly early in the afternoon; Arya lasted just a little longer. Joffrey grabbed hold of Sansa and began taking her around and introducing her to everyone he thought worth their time. He looked dashing with his tidy mane of golden curls, green eyes bright against his navy suit, and together they made a striking couple that drew plenty of attention and envy from the crowd. Apparently this was a pretty big deal, and many of the best poker players had come in from all over, as well as all the Vegas elite. She was glad she’d put some work into her appearance for the event. She had her long hair braided all around her head like a crown, and wore a tea-length Milly dress patterned with pink flowers. 

Sansa knew very little about poker, despite Joffrey’s repeated attempts to explain it to her throughout the afternoon as he whisked her around on his arm. She’d gathered that in this tourney, the last person standing at each table went on to advance to the next round. There would be only one winner at the end, the last person in the game in the final round, with a quarter of a million dollar prize. She watched the shrinking tables with awe and confusion. It was a very complicated dance, one to which Sansa did not know the steps.

At first, she was surprised to find that Sandor Clegane was playing. She found it difficult to keep from watching him. He was intensely focused while playing, but between hands sometimes he would scan the room and more than once his eyes would come to rest on her. She could feel herself blush as pink as the flowers on her dress whenever he caught her watching him. 

The crowd had thinned considerably by the time they broke for dinner. Robert and Cersei, arm in arm and looking as elegant as a king and queen, whisked away the families and the players who would be in the final table to a private room. 

The food was delicious and champagne flowed freely as everyone discussed the afternoon’s games. Sansa watched Joffrey, remembering what Margaery had told her earlier that day. Her friend had met him for coffee yesterday, and she said he’d been a perfect gentleman. He didn’t make any moves on her and was politely inquisitive about her work. Maybe he really was just interested in Sansa, Margaery suggested. He still met every line on her checklist, and her parents were almost too supportive if such a thing were possible. 

After talking to her father that morning, Sansa had texted her brother Robb. Despite them all living in New York, she had still not met his girlfriend. She’d kind of assumed it wasn’t anything serious, but if her mother was unhappy it must be. He had always seemed to have the best judgment out of the three siblings and was more than capable of taking care of himself, but she felt a strong urge to show him her support. _When I’m back, I’d love to meet Jeyne,_ she’d said. He was thrilled, and certain they would adore each other.

Sansa’s skin tingled and she knew someone was watching her. Without looking around, she could sense who it was. She could feel the heat of his dark gaze on her every move, as she picked up her fork or took a sip of champagne. Perhaps he was trying to tell whether she had spilled his secret. His silent attention moved something deep within her, and she felt like they had their own shared secret as well, as no one knew they’d become something like friends. 

Joffrey said little to Sansa during dinner, though his hand was almost always either on her back or thigh, and was engaged in lively conversation with his mother and uncle. Arya was on Sansa’s other side and pushed her food around on her plate in a never ending pattern, in a foul mood about something. Sansa thought how nice her sister looked, dressed in black Helmut Lang pants and asymmetrical top. She looked like she could be a model with her long dark hair, angular features and fresh face. She wasn’t conventionally pretty and that made her special. 

After what seemed like an eternity dinner was finished and they were all ushered back into the game room. A steady crowd still remained, eager to see who took the grand prize. 

The final players took their seats. Joffrey’s uncle Jaime remained in the game, as well as Sandor. Sansa remembered the other players from Joffrey’s tour of the who’s who. She cringed when remembering her introduction to Petyr Baelish, a brothel owner who also ran a few adult shows in town. She’d been hard pressed to keep a straight face and not gape like a fish, and then she had been super creeped out by the way he looked at her. There was a former world champion, Barristan Selmy, though Joffrey had whispered to her later that he was rather past his prime. The only woman left in the game was young and very pretty, with pale blonde hair and eyes that were almost purple. Sansa had asked Joffrey about her earlier but he wouldn’t talk about her. The last player was a man called Varys. Joffrey had pointed him out but not introduced her, and didn’t seem to be quite sure about who he was or what he did. 

Sansa met Sandor’s eyes and mouthed the words, “Good luck.”

He nodded back to her, solemnly, and she felt a knot growing in her chest. They hadn’t spoken all day and the longer it stretched on, the greater the weight of their last conversation grew. 

“Any final bets, ladies?” Ned asked his daughters.

“The Hound will win,” Sansa told the two of them quietly. 

Arya laughed at her. “Do you even know what kind of people that man’s up against? Why do you think it will be the Hound?”

“Because,” Sansa whispered, “No one will look him in the face." 

“I don’t know sweetheart,” Ned said to them, “Jaime Lannister’s still my favorite to take it all. He won the world series of poker five years ago. In the winning hand he bested four kings with a straight flush, they call him the kingslayer now.” 

In the end Sansa turned out to be right, and her father and sister looked at her in reverence as the Hound did eventually emerge the last one standing. He accepted the prize with Robert’s handshake and congratulations, and grunted as Robert joked that he’d better not be thinking of leaving their employ. 

Sansa saw him disappear from the crowd as soon as he was out of the spotlight, and she made some vague excuses and followed him. She almost lost him as he ducked down a dark hallway past a closed door marked “Employees Only,” but caught him just on the other side and reached for his arm. 

He turned so quickly Sansa gasped, and his hands shot to her shoulders, his strong grasp like a vice.

“What are you doing?” he growled at her.

The roughness of his voice and intensity of his gaze made her squirm. “I just wanted to see you, you know, after last night. You played very well.”

He laughed and inched closer, warm hands still heavy on her. “And you wouldn’t speak with me when we were around the others?”

“Joffrey probably wouldn’t appreciate it," Sansa admitted. "But you did leave before I could congratulate you.”

He nodded. “You’re right, little bird. Joffrey doesn’t like others playing with his toys. So why did you follow me?”

She moved close to him, looking up into his wild grey eyes, and saw a fragility behind the anger. His twisted lips parted slightly, as if in awe of her proximity, and his hands slowly began to trail down her bare arms, his touch becoming surprisingly gentle. She wondered why the hallway was so very warm, and thought Sandor must be suffering in his black suit. 

She raised a hand to his face, to explore the angry hard lines of his jaw. He tensed just before her hand reached him, but didn’t move away. Her hand traced down his cheek and her fingers had just brushed across his lips to the burned side of his face when both of their phones dinged almost simultaneously with messages. 

Sandor moved away instantly to reach into his pocket and dig out his phone. Sansa flushed deeply and took a step back, retrieving hers from her bag. It was Margaery.

_Joffrey just called, going to dinner tomorrow if still ok with you._

She replied. _Still ok, good luck._

As she had just hit send, she got another text, this time from Joffrey. _Where are you? Something came up and I've got to take a rain check on our dinner tomorrow._

She smiled to herself and looked up at Sandor. He was finished with his phone and watching her curiously.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I’ve just heard from the sh- from Joffrey. Wanted me to know about his change of plans for tomorrow night. He text you too?”

She nodded.

“Did he tell you why?”

Sansa looked down, “No, he didn’t.”

“Little bird, he –“ Sandor shook his head, as if marvelling at his boss’ stupidity. “He’s going out with someone else, with that friend of yours–“

“Margaery Tyrell,” Sansa finished for him. “I know, she just told me.” She hesitated before adding, “It was my idea.”

Sandor stared at her for a few seconds and then started laughing. “He really doesn’t deserve you.”

“I trust you’ll keep this between us,” Sansa said, using her very best innocent smile and batting her eyelashes.

She saw Sandor’s weight shift and for a second she thought he would move close to her again, but he stayed where he was. 

Instead he looked away from her, took a deep breath and said, “So I take it you don’t have any plans for tomorrow night?”


	8. Arya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, finally here is an update, it's been a busy few weeks! Thank you all so much for the lovely feedback :) Next will be the big first date (or is it?), and then we'll check back in with Arya.

Arya casually linked arms with Gendry as they meandered down the sidewalk away from the Stark hotel in the mid afternoon sun. The street smelled of the city and the traffic was noisy and people were everywhere, and Arya felt strangely content. Today was going to be a good day.

Since they’d kissed neither of them had mentioned it, and Arya preferred it that way. She was only here for about another week and she hated thinking about the future and all the what ifs. That didn’t mean she didn’t want anything else to happen with him while she was here. She actually kind of liked being around Gendry, something she couldn’t say for many people, and even though she felt super girly and obnoxious for even thinking it, he was actually really cute, with his blue eyes, dark curls and muscular frame. 

After they’d been walking in silence for a while, Arya piped up, “It sucked that I couldn’t bring you to dinner last night, it was so lame.”

Gendry frowned at her. “What dinner?”

“Oh, remember I said I was at the poker tournament yesterday at King’s Landing? Well Robert Baratheon hosted a dinner for the families and the final table.”

“You made it to the final table?” 

“I’m flattered, but no, dipshit. I’m a Stark, remember? The whole stupid thing was like, for us.”

“I see," he said slowly. "Your families know each other then.”

Arya furrowed her eyebrows at him; she didn’t recall him being this dense. “Uh yeah, Robert Baratheon’s like my father’s best friend, and Sansa’s fucking his son Joffrey.”

“Shit.” Gendry withdrew his arm from Arya’s.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. He stayed quiet so she took a stab at it. “I know, the family is all assholes, right? Don’t worry, I know that.”

“Yeah,” Gendry said quietly. “Hey where are we going anyway?”

Arya stretched her arms overhead, pulling her black crop top up over her ribs. She wasn’t much for fashion trends, but she figured she had earned being able to show off her impressively toned abs. The top covered her new tattoo, but she wasn’t ready for Sansa to catch a glimpse of it, and if everything went according to plan Gendry would see it later anyway. 

“Oh, I thought we’d hit up the Lion. I haven’t been there yet and I’d love to win some money off the Lannisters.”

Gendry looked uneasy. “It’s not that great, maybe we should go somewhere else instead?”

“Um, I thought I was making the plans today. Unless you have a problem?” she raised an eyebrow at him.

She saw a moment of indecision playing in his blue eyes before he finally shrugged and shook his head. “No problem.”

Grinning, Arya linked arms with him again as they continued down the street to the Lion. 

She hadn’t seen the inside before, but knowing what she did of the Lannister family it was almost exactly what she would have expected. Despite being one of the newer casinos on the strip, it did not ascribe to modern minimalism. It was very ornate, all red carpets and drapes and everything else was gold and mirrors. Golden snarling lions stood rampant just inside like a warning to everyone who entered. Sansa had told her that they just opened a Lion in Macau that was much grander than this one. Arya couldn't imagine how ridiculous that must be. 

She dragged Gendry by the hand back to the poker tables. This was made more difficult by the fact that he seemed to have developed a sudden fascination with his feet, and knocked into several people on the way back. She managed to pull him out of the way before anyone could actually figure out who was responsible.

Arya put her name on the list, but despite her urging Gendry wouldn’t sign up. He was really acting weird, more than usual, that is. If she’d known he’d be like this she might have come by herself. She punched him lightly on the arm and sent him to get them drinks and chips. 

As he returned with beers in hand, Arya’s name was called out to join a table. She headed over with Gendry trailing behind her, and had just sat down when she felt a large, strong hand on her shoulder. 

“The two of you, with me,” growled an unpleasantly familiar voice. 

Arya turned around, though she already knew who it was. The Hound stood looming behind her, his other hand firmly gripping Gendry’s upper arm. 

She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, “Leave me alone, I haven’t done anything wrong.”

He released his hold on them and pulled out her chair before lifting her up to her feet by her shoulders. “Didn’t say you did, but you need to come with me now,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Look, I didn’t want to make a scene girl – “

“I don’t care if you do, let everyone see what you do to innocent people.”

To her surprise, Gendry interfered with a pleading voice. “Come on Arya, let’s go with him.” 

She was going to argue with him and call him out for being such a pushover, but something wavering in his voice right then made her think better of it. Sullenly, Arya nodded. The Hound grabbed them each by an arm and led them off through the crowd, which parted generously for him, leaving behind a table full of gaping mouths and their two forgotten beers. 

He took them through a large room filled with video monitors where a few bored looking men sat on swivel chairs, then into a small office. 

Once the door was shut he rounded on them. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“I can be wherever I want!” Arya shouted.

“Wasn’t talking to you,” the Hound snarled back at her. “What are you thinking coming here boy? Did you really think they wouldn't spot you?”

Arya spun around to stare at Gendry, puzzled. He looked sheepishly back at her. 

“I – I’m not supposed to be here,” he said to her quietly, not answering the Hound’s question. 

“Oh my god what did you do?” Arya was sure there must be a fantastic story here.

To her surprise, the Hound shook his head and began to laugh. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

“Know what?” Arya asked, frowning at Gendry.

“Look,” he said, facing her and taking both her hands in his. “I’ll explain everything later, as soon as we leave this place, I promise.”

“You will tell me exactly right now.”

Gendry sighed heavily, looking down at their joined hands. 

“This is too good,” the Hound sneered.

“Arya,” Gendry said slowly, “Robert Baratheon is my father.”

She stared at him for a long time. “Oh my god, you’re shitting me.”

“I wish.” He shook his head. “I mean, he doesn’t really have anything to do with me, that woman wouldn’t really allow it.”

“Cersei,” the Hound said, as if Arya didn’t know. 

“We used to see each other every once in a while, before I turned eighteen, but since then hardly ever, not if she has anything to say about it. And I’m completely totally not allowed to be here. Apparently I’m upsetting to her.”

“Wait – how old are you?” Arya asked. It was starting to come together. 

“Suddenly that matters?”

Arya put her hands on her hips. “You know why I’m asking.”

“I’m twenty four.”

“A year younger than Joffrey.”

“Bingo,” Gendry said, “hence the reason I’m not too popular around here.”

The Hound cleared his throat, “And you’re lucky that when the guys spotted you on the camera that I’m the one who offered to go set you straight.”

“Oh right,” Arya scoffed, turning the anger that was building up inside her towards the Hound, “because you’re so sweet and cuddly.”

“Haven’t hurt you yet have I? And anyway, can’t let anything happen with you around.”

“Why, ‘cause I’m a precious delicate Stark?” 

The Hound shifted on his feet. “Something like that. Plus,” he continued, very casually, “I kept you from losing all your money at the poker table.”

“Whatever, I’d do fine,” she insisted, wondering what had happened to the really good day she had planned on. 

“Sure, like you did yesterday,” the Hound taunted her. She was surprised he’d even noticed she had been playing, though the more she thought about it, the more she decided he probably noticed most things. 

“Maybe I just thought I’d spare you the embarrassment of losing to a teenage girl,” Arya suggested, though they both knew it was far from the truth. She could admit her shortcomings, but she was a beginner and planned to become much better. A wild thought occurred to her. “Hey, you won the tourney, will you teach me?” she asked.

The Hound was surprised. “It’s not something everyone takes to.”

“I will,” she insisted, “I can learn anything.”

He studied her closely, and she began to feel uncomfortable under his hard gaze. Despite this, she continued to meet his eyes, trying to avoid staring at the horrible scars, until finally he said, “You have to learn to change your face.”

“What do you mean? You of all people should know you can’t change your face.” As soon as Arya said it she wished she hadn’t, and she noticed Gendry’s eyes grow wide in fear. The Hound just continued to look at her, the barest hint of something uncomfortable in his expression. When he didn’t say anything, Arya said, “Okay, what do you mean?”

The giant man seemed to pull himself back out of his own mind. “I mean you read like a book. Think of it as putting on a mask, one that doesn’t show what you’re thinking.”

“Can I practice with you?” she asked. “Gendry could probably use some practice too,” she teased, nudging him with her elbow. 

“When exactly do you plan to do that?”

At least he hadn’t said no. Arya shrugged. “Why not now?” 

He checked his watch and shook his head. “I’m off work in 15 minutes, don’t have time now.”

“Uh, okay. After you get off work then? You can’t tell me you have actual plans.”

“I do.” He seemed mildly amused. 

“Are they more important than teaching me?” Arya asked. 

“Much more.” There was still that strange small smile in his eyes, and it looked out of place on his horrible face. After a moment he said, “You’re not very close with your sister, are you?”

Arya laughed. “Understatement. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he said, shaking his head. “Now, off you two go. You’ve been in here long enough that they’ll think I gave you a decent scare. Just try not to look too happy as you leave.” 

They hurried out of the Lion under the scrutiny of the security staff and back into the afternoon light. 

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Arya said as soon as they were outside. 

“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” Gendry said, scuffing his boots on the sidewalk. 

“You thought it was a big deal I was a Stark. And anyway, if you thought it wasn’t important, there would have been no reason for you to hide it from me.” 

“I didn’t hide it, it just didn’t come up.”

“It did,” she insisted, “When I told you I wanted to go to the Lion. That, for example, would have been a great time to say something. Or maybe when I was telling you about dinner last night.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just, even though he acknowledges me, he’s never been much of a father to me. So I don’t much think of him as family, and I know he’s super disappointed with the direction I’ve taken. Probably tries to think of me a little as possible. And the Lannisters, well, you know.”

“Don’t try to distract me with our mutual dislike of the Lannisters. Seriously, you could have saved me from wondering if you just liked me because my family has money.” 

“Arya I would never, I hope you didn’t really think that.” He stopped and grabbed her hand, pulling her to face him. “And I didn’t want you to think differently of me.” 

“I want to say it doesn’t change how I think about you,” Arya said, “but honestly it’s going to take some getting used to. I mean, my family might actually approve of you.” She frowned. 

“Is that bad?” he asked, confused. 

“It’s not something I ever expected. And I haven’t forgiven you for lying to me.” 

“I didn’t lie exactly.”

“A lie of omission, whatever. I just need some time to think about all this and what it means. I think I just want to go back to my room.”

“So…” Gendry started to say, very hesitantly, “if this is actually really important to you, does that mean that _I’m_ imp– “

“Stop it.”


	9. Sandor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short Sandor chapter. Next will be the rest of the evening from Sansa's pov. Thanks for all the love and feedback :)

Sandor watched the younger Stark sister leave with Gendry. He was still shaking his head to himself at this intriguing turn of events. Leave it to that girl to manage to find the only member of the Lannister-Baratheon clan with half a level head on his shoulders, without even realizing it. 

He’d sympathized with Gendry as a kid. In service to the Lannister branch of the family, Sandor didn’t see too much of him other than to continually have to shut him out and turn him away. He knew what it was like to be unloved and unwanted by family. As the boy grew into a young man, with all the good looks of a Robert Baratheon in his prime but seemingly without any of the major character flaws, Sandor’s sympathy waned. And now, it looked like he’d even got himself a Stark. One who, Sandor now realized, looked an awful lot like her aunt, Robert’s pre-Lannister fiancee Lyanna Stark, who died young. 

How did he get himself so tangled up with these Starks? He couldn’t escape one for the other. His thoughts turned to the red haired beauty he was somehow supposed to be seeing that evening. Beyond all belief, she’d agreed to meet up with him when her date with Joffrey was cancelled. Last night, he’d tried not to make it sound like he was asking her out, even though that is very much what he wanted to do, in case she would only accept if she thought it was something else. Even so, he never thought she actually would agree. 

Now that he had gotten himself into this mess of meeting up with the pretty little bird, he had to figure out what to do with her.

He tried to think of what she would like. Should he try to take her to a nice dinner? He would undoubtedly fuck that up royally, and there was no way that she would interpret it as anything other than a real date. 

But what if she did expect a real date? Sandor knew nothing about dating, and especially not about dating sophisticated ladies like her. He didn’t want to let her down but was almost certain that whatever he decided to do it would be wrong. 

Partly, he realized, he didn’t want it to seem like he’d put too much effort into it. That would only make It worse when it was a disaster and she wouldn’t have anything to do with him ever again. That she was even willing to speak with him and spend time with him to begin with was a miracle. 

He thought about asking her what she’d like to do. He had her precious number now in his phone, so they could meet up, she’d said. But then that seemed wrong too.

What if she was playing with him, leading him on only to report back to Joffrey that his loyal dog was sniffing around behind his back? But that didn’t seem like her, the sweet girl who only saw the best of everyone. And she’d come to him last night, followed him to the dark hallway alone. She’d touched his face. He remembered the feeling of his hands on the soft bare skin of her shoulders and arms. They had been so close and if he had just leaned down a bit he might have been able to – 

His phone dinged and he pulled it out of his pocket. It was her. _How should I dress for tonight?_

Fuck if he knew. That was just like her, wanting to make sure that she’s appropriate for the situation. At least she hadn’t forgotten, and was still planning on showing. He supposed he had better decide what they were doing pretty quick. If he told her to dress nice she would definitely think it was a date. If he told her otherwise, then he couldn’t take her anywhere fancy, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to anyway. 

_Just whatever, something casual I guess,_ he finally told her, cringing at himself after he sent it. 

There, it was done. He let himself into a room at the Lion to shower and change, not that anything could really help his appearance much. He dressed in a black t-shirt and faded jeans, and combed his hair over the burned side of his face. He normally tried to avoid mirrors as much as possible, but now he studied himself. His dark hair hung lank and wet down to his shoulders, creating damp spots on his shirt. If he avoided his face he supposed he wasn’t bad looking; he was tall and in excellent shape. But the face just couldn’t be helped. He would always be the monster his brother turned him into. 

He’d had some skin grafts right after the injury to at least cover all the muscle and bone, but his father hadn’t wanted to spring for any additional surgery to help with frivolous cosmetic issues. Sandor wondered if anything could be done now to at least make him slightly less offensive. He reached up and touched the scarred tissue on his cheek, and realized that he wasn’t even sure if he would want to. It was part of him. And it would take more than minor improvements to win the little bird. 

He pulled into the circle drive of the Stark hotel in his black F-350 and waited. Surely she wouldn’t want anyone to see who she was leaving with. After a few minutes without catching sight of her, he began to wonder if she’d thought better of it after all. 

Finally, he saw her step outside the sliding glass doors. She wore wide legged jeans with a high waist which made her legs look unbelievably long. Her shirt was white and lacy, the picture of innocence. She looked around, squinting and with a tiny frown on her face. She pulled out her phone and looked at it, the furrow between her brows deepening. 

Sandor realized she had no idea what he drove, and might have been expecting him on foot. _In the big black truck,_ he told her. 

He watched her mouth open into a little “oh” as she looked back up, and she actually smiled as she located his truck, walking towards him with a bounce in her step. 

As she climbed in, she blushed slightly and rearranged her loose hair around her shoulders before looking at him. He caught the scent of her hair as she moved, and it smelled like lemons and lavender. 

“Hi,” she said. 

Sandor nodded stiffly. He had no idea what to do. 

“I was worried you’d forgotten me,” Sansa continued.

Without thinking, he said, “How could I do that?” 

She smiled and her blush deepened. Sandor didn’t understand how someone could be so pretty. 

“So, what now?” Sansa asked.

Sandor shifted the car into drive, and they headed away from the hotel, soon leaving all the familiar landmarks behind.


	10. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this update took so long. Things have just been crazy busy and that's life I guess. I promise I am going to finish this, I have the whole thing plotted out and it's not super long. Thank you for your comments :)

Sansa had spent an embarrassing portion of the day agonizing over what to wear tonight. She took pride in always being appropriately dressed for the situation, but in this case she didn’t know quite what the situation was going to be. After spending what felt like hours poring over everything in her wardrobe, and even going so far as to try on a few crumpled items from Arya’s still packed suitcase, she had finally texted Sandor to try to get some idea of what to dress for. 

Of course his answer had been vague, she shouldn’t have expected anything different. But it did help her realize that she should just wear something that made her feel like herself. The next challenge was finding something in all the clothes she had brought that actually fit the bill. 

Sansa still had no idea what to expect from this evening, and after all the thought she had put into it all day she was finding the car ride uncomfortably silent. She watched Sandor for a while, trying to guess what he might be thinking. He seemed tense, his jaw was clenched tight, and he barely acknowledged she was there. 

She took a deep breath and attempted to start a conversation. “How was your day?”

“Was ok.”

“What did you do?”

“Worked.” 

She chewed her lip, “So… what do you have planned for us?” she asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Sandor responded shortly.

“Oh, I love a good surprise!” She had to get him to loosen up a bit, if that was even possible. 

“Hope it’s a good one.”

Sansa sighed and began to play with her hair, as she often did when unsettled and at a loss for what else to do. She drew it all in front of her left shoulder and began to untangle the long red waves with her fingers. This finally drew Sandor’s gaze from the road, and she pretended not to notice though it gave her a strange warm feeling. 

Emboldened, Sansa tried again to break the silence in another way. 

“Do you mind if I turn on the radio?” she asked.

“Whatever you want,” Sandor grunted.

“ _Whatever_ I want?” She grinned and turned the radio on. Some kind of loud, angry music blared at first before Sansa quickly changed the station. She scrolled through a few, then squealed, drawing a sharp look from Sandor. “Oh I just love Taylor Swift!” she exclaimed. “I’m sure you don’t, but I met her not too long ago and she is just the sweetest.” She sang along a few lines.

_So it’s gonna be forever_  
_Or it’s gonna go down in flames_  
_You can tell me when it’s over_  
_If the high was worth the pain_

“What a strange life you have, little bird,” Sandor commented. “That you can meet any celebrity you like.”

“Not any one I like,” she protested. “We’re both living in New York and close to the same age after all.”

“You’re friends with the rich and famous,” Sandor continued, ignoring her protest. “What are you doing here with me?”

Sansa frowned. She wasn’t entirely sure of the answer herself, and rather than try to figure it out she changed the station again, away from the offending Taylor Swift. 

“Ooh this song I like,” she cooed. “It’s new Echosmith, I never cared for “Cool Kids” but this is good.” And she sang along for a few lines.

_I think the universe is on my side_  
_Heaven and Earth have finally aligned_  
_Days are good and that’s the way it should be_

“You sing like a little bird too,” Sandor said, startling Sansa by voluntarily breaking his stony silence. “You have a beautiful voice.”

Sansa blushed. “Thank you, you’re very kind.”

“I’m not.”

“I think you are.”

“I don’t pay silly compliments, I was just being honest.”

“I know,” Sansa said. “That’s what makes it so nice to hear.” 

He grunted and pulled into a parking lot in a somewhat run down looking part of town. Sandor parked the car and shut it off without saying anything. He had already gotten out of the truck when he looked back at Sansa and noticed she hadn’t moved. 

“What are you waiting for?”

She quickly undid her seatbelt and reached for the door. “I’m sorry, you didn’t say. I wasn’t sure.” What she didn’t add was that she had also been wondering whether he would come around and open her door for her. But she supposed he would think that was silly. She could open a door herself. 

Sandor shook his head. “You don’t need to chirp at me. You’re right,” he looked down, “I should’ve said.” He gestured at a building to their left. “Best fucking sandwich shop around. We’ll get it to go.”

Sansa frowned to herself and slid out of the massive truck, which was reminiscent of dismounting a horse. She had no idea what was going on, and whatever she had expected, carryout sandwiches was not it. They went inside the nondescript building, walking with a distance wide enough to park a car between them. They placed orders at a counter with a woman who seemed very annoyed with Sansa for not already knowing the entire menu and exactly what she wanted. There was an awkward dance at the register, Sansa pulled out her wallet and Sandor growled at her until she backed down.

Back in the truck holding their paper sack of food, Sansa changed the radio station again, this time landing on a classical station. 

“I just saw this performed in New York!” Sansa exclaimed, starting to wonder at her sudden need to provide commentary on every song, as if this whole thing wasn’t awkward enough already. 

“Beethoven’s a fucking genius,” Sandor stated matter of factly. 

Sansa cocked her head and looked at him, a half smile on her lips. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a fan.”

“Ugly shit with an awful temper, everyone loves him. Fucking genius.”

Sansa beamed at him, and they listened to the symphony in a slightly more comfortable silence as the buildings thinned and they began to drive out into the desert, which glowed in the setting sun. It was nice to get out of the city and see the real landscape. Sandor rolled down the windows and Sansa stuck her arm outside to feel the clear air. 

She relaxed and enjoyed watching the scenery, and told herself that if the man beside her wanted to have a conversation right now, he would make an effort to do so. She couldn’t be expected to do everything, and this whole thing was his idea anyway. 

As they turned down a gravel road with nothing around, Sansa felt that she ought to be worried about letting a man she hardly knew drive her out into the desert at night, but she couldn’t quite manage it. 

“It’s lovely here,” she said.

Sandor nodded approvingly, and seemed to have relaxed a little over the drive. “Glad you think so.” He pulled off the road. “It’s mine, or rather, my brother’s, but he’s not using it in prison.”

Noting Sansa’s puzzled expression, he continued. “This land was my father’s, and he didn’t want to split it up so he left everything to my brother, rotten bastard.”

“Your brother, or father?” Sansa asked, immediately worried about making light of such a thing. 

Sandor let out a short laugh. “Both I suppose. Anyway, I look after things now, rent out the house.”

Sansa looked around trying to find any hint of a house, but found none.

“I prefer not to be anywhere near the house, little bird, unless I must. Not many happy memories there.” He gave her a wry smile. “But the property is nice, a place to get out and clear my head. The land around here has always been a kind of escape for me. It makes me feel… lighter, somehow, to get out here, so I thought you might like it too.”

She was deeply touched at his sharing such a personal place with her, but found herself again at a loss for any appropriate words. She gave his forearm a small squeeze, and smiled.

Sandor was still for a moment, grey eyes looking intently at her as if trying to find something, then he shook himself and suddenly became very busy with getting out of the truck. 

“I’ve brought some blankets,” he told her over his shoulder, “we can spread them out in the truck bed.” 

For the first time Sansa began to worry what kind of ideas he had about where this night was headed, and then she was surprised that she hadn’t thought about that before. “Blankets?” she asked, trying not to sound too confused.

“Oh, right,” Sandor rubbed the scarred side of his face with a massive hand. “What I should’ve said before is, the stars are fucking amazing out here. I thought we could have a – what, a picnic I guess, and then I thought you might like to see the stars. You know, living in the big city you must not get much of a chance.”

Sansa was floored, and was pretty sure her mouth dropped open a little bit. She wondered for about the thousandth time that day what this evening was to him. She’d decided he probably was interested in her, at least somewhat. Men usually didn’t ask pretty young women out for the evening as friends. But sometimes she wondered if he’d just felt bad for her, since Joffrey had set her aside for the night in favor of her more famous friend. 

She liked the way he challenged her, and the way that he perceived her and spoke to her was refreshing. She couldn’t deny that they had formed some kind of strange friendship over the past week, but he wasn’t her type by a long shot. Sansa tried to push all these confusing thoughts away and just be present. Introspection wasn’t really her strong point anyway. 

The sandwich was, in fact, very delicious in its simplicity, hers a turkey and provolone with lots of veggies on whole grain bread. Sandor had brought a bottle of wine which they shared from plastic cups while sitting on the tailgate of his truck. They said very little but it seemed an easier silence now. 

As the sky gradually became dark, they arranged the heavy wool blankets and lay on opposite sides of the truck bed, staring up into the night. Sansa had seen the sky from outside the city before, but this was incredible. She had no idea there were so many teeny little stars everywhere. 

“Do you like it, little bird?”

“It’s wonderful,” she breathed. “My god, I feel so small.”

“It’s nice, to be reminded how little the universe cares for you.”

“How is that nice?”

Sandor laughed. He had been doing much more of that but it still sounded strange coming from him. “Think of it this way. No matter how badly you fuck up,” he waved at the sky, “all this will go on no different, without noticing.”

Sansa reached across the truck bed and grabbed hold of his arm, needing something solid to anchor herself onto the earth. “I guess, but shouldn’t we feel like what we do matters?”

“When you want to feel important, look at the people around you.” He cleared his throat. “When you need to let it all go, look at the stars.” 

The breeze turned chilly and Sansa scooted closer for warmth. Sandor pulled a blanket over them both. She could hear him breathing, solid and steady. The universe above was so massive, and everything felt possible. 

After a while, Sandor surprised her by saying, “tell me about yourself.”

“I’m sure you know all about me.” She was glad he couldn’t see her blush. 

“If you mean from Joffrey I don’t give two shits for his opinion of you. I want to know what you have to say about yourself.”

Sansa wasn’t sure where to begin.

“Um, well I have an older brother and a younger sister.” She paused and he nudged her to continue. “I grew up in New York City though I’ve traveled a lot. East and West coast and Europe mostly. I love going new places, and I love being home.”

“Go on.”

“I want to be a designer,” she surprised herself by admitting. “I want to be a creater and not just a consumer of fashion. I went to school for it, but all anyone ever expected is what I do now. I’m not the smart one, you know? Robb’s supposed to be a great businessman and leader, and everyone knows Arya’s going to do something unconventional and awesome with her life but I’m just the silly girl. I have a fashion blog and do guest articles for fashion magazines but no one actually cares that I really do know what I’m talking about. I’m guest judging on the next season of Project Runway and that’s kind of cool I guess. But all these things I think I could’ve done anyway, just by virtue of being rich and pretty and having half a clue. Of course I don’t need to work more than I do, but I want to be recognized for my own ideas and merit. Plus I like it.”

She sighed heavily. “The problem is,” she continued, “I want to be taken seriously, but most of the time I can’t even take myself seriously.”

“That is a problem,” Sandor agreed. 

She’d half expected him to say something more comforting, that she had no reason to doubt herself and of course she could accomplish anything she wanted. But that wouldn’t have been truthful, and certainly not helpful.

A shooting star raced across the sky above them and Sansa gasped, grabbing tighter onto Sandor where her hand had made its way down to his wrist. 

“Make a wish,” she told him. 

“I don’t believe that shi – “

“Hurry up!” Sansa closed her eyes and wished for the confidence and ability to make her own path. 

She wondered what Sandor wished for.

* * *

Later, back in her hotel room, Sansa lay in bed listening to music through the headphones she’d borrowed from a suspicious Arya. The evening had certainly been different, very low key and not exactly fun, but nice and peaceful. They’d done nothing but gaze at the stars, then drove back in near silence to the city, which now seemed much too crowded and noisy. Sandor hadn’t gotten out of the truck when he dropped her off, like he didn’t want to be seen with her. It made no matter what he thought of her or wanted anyway, because Sansa knew one thing for sure. 

She hadn’t thought once that evening of Joffrey or wondered how his date with Margaery was going. She had felt more herself and at ease that night than she had the whole trip so far, and that made something very clear to her. Sansa was really, actually, not interested in Joffrey. 

It was strange to let go after half a lifetime of being convinced he was the one, but she just didn’t care for him now that she actually knew him. She might be too much of a romantic, but there just wasn’t a spark and she didn’t think it would grow if it wasn’t there now. 

Right before she fell asleep, with a small grin on her face, she sent Echosmith’s “Bright” to Sandor with a smiley face, and drifted off while listening to it. 

_Did you see that shooting star tonight?_  
_Were you dazzled by the same constellation?_  
_Did you and Jupiter conspire to get me?_  
_I think you and the Moon and Neptune got it right_  
_‘Cause now I’m shining bright, so bright_  
_And I get lost in your eyes tonight_


	11. Arya

Sansa was acting really strange. Like even more than usual, or at least a different kind of strange. When she got back late last night she’d been awfully quiet, and her head seemed even more in the clouds than normal. Arya had made a point to be pretty obvious in watching her as she floated around the room getting ready for bed. When Sansa had noticed her sister’s attention, she had just smiled. Something was definitely going on. 

Arya couldn’t imagine that Joffrey could make anyone that happy. It puzzled her so much that she actually resigned herself to asking Sansa about it the next morning. 

“Have fun last night?” she asked, still lying in bed as Sansa emerged fresh from the shower wrapped in a towel. 

“Yeah,” her sister just smiled wistfully and didn’t elaborate. 

“Go out with Joffrey?” 

Sansa stopped on her way to the closet and looked at her. “No.”

Interesting. “Margaery then?” she asked.

“Nope.” Sansa continued on to the closet, turning her back to Arya. 

“I thought Jeyne went back to L.A.”

“She did. Does this color make me look too pale?” Sansa held up a deep purple dress, looking down its length rather than at her sister. Arya ignored her pathetic attempts to change the subject. 

“Who were you with?” she narrowed her eyes. 

Sansa gaped at her in mock horror. “Nosy much? As if you tell me everything that you do!” She turned her attention back to the closet, which was apparently even more captivating than usual this morning. 

She had a solid point, and rather than commit to a sisterly tell-all, Arya decided to let it go for now. But as far as she could see, Sansa hiding who she had been with last night could mean one of two things. Either she was embarrassed about who she was with, or she was sneaking around on Joffrey. The problem was, Sansa wasn’t the type to hang out with anyone she thought was embarrassing, and as much as Joffrey probably deserved it, she would never cheat. 

Arya would figure it out, but she had her own issues to deal with right now. After some time alone with her thoughts last night, she decided that she’d made much too big a deal over the revelation about Gendry’s family. He couldn’t help it, even if it was unfortunate. And he was right; it only mattered if it was a serious relationship. After all, she was only visiting, and he was just the least annoying person she’d found to spend her time with. Plus he did have really fantastic blue eyes.

Arya’s mind flickered to the beautiful tattoo he had designed for her, his hand holding her steady while she got it. She shook her head. It would be hard to forget him with that constant reminder. But no, she couldn’t act like this was serious. She didn’t do serious relationships; she wasn’t her sister. 

They were going to spend the afternoon together, and Arya had a plan. She got out of bed and started looking through her suitcase. She had a few things that seemed like they would work well enough, but nothing that really made her feel pretty. Pretty wasn’t something she usually tried to be. She could never compete with Sansa, so she tended to pretend not to care. 

With a heavy sigh, she looked at her sister, who was in the bathroom putting on makeup. Red lipstick. Arya wondered how that would look on her. 

“Hey San?” she asked in the sweetest voice she could manage without making herself throw up. “Remember how just a minute ago I was nice and stopped prying about last night?”

“Yes…” Sansa raised a perfect eyebrow. 

“Do you think I could borrow maybe… a teeny bit of makeup?”

Her sister beamed like all her dreams had come true, and seemed to understand the plea not to ask any questions. “Only if I get to do it.”

Arya snorted. “Um of course, you actually think I could do it on my own? But seriously just a teensy bit ok? I want to look like myself and not a total clown.”

“Do you think I look like a clown?” Sansa asked, pouting.

“Would I ask you for help if I thought you did?” 

Sansa smiled, white teeth bright against red lips, and her blue eyes sparkled. She was so beautiful, it just wasn’t fair. "I was just teasing you. Trust me, it will look totally natural. You’ve got such great skin and bone structure, heavy makeup would be a sin on you.”

Was that a compliment? “Sure, let’s get on with it then.”

* * *

Arya had been looking forward to having this chance to hone her poker skills against the infamous Hound, but it was proving to be a disappointing experience. He was clearly distracted, and she was pretty sure he was letting her win. 

Gendry had joined them at first, after covertly sneaking into the back offices at the Lion through an employee entrance. It wasn’t his game though; he wore everything right out in the open on his face and Arya doubted he could be competitive if his life depended on it. 

While Gendry alternated between watching the casino patrons on the screens and staring at Arya, Arya studied the Hound. He paid little to no attention to her, so she was free to watch him. He wasn’t necessarily acting any differently towards her apart from his inattention, but something in his expression seemed softer and also much more sad than she had noticed before. 

After he checked his phone for what must have been the twentieth time, Arya sighed loudly and smacked her cards face down on the table, causing Gendry to jump. 

“What?” the Hound asked her, as if he didn’t know.

She rolled her eyes. “Expecting a call?”

“No,” the Hound snarled, much more fiercely than she expected. “Maybe thought I was, but probably not.”

“What?” Arya asked, “That doesn’t even make any sense. Anyway if your idea of teaching me is not paying any attention to the game and just letting me win, well that method sucks. You were the one who said you would teach me, and you said we could meet today.”

“Not letting you win,” he looked down at his massive hands. The cards, still cradled in them, looked tiny.

“Well you’ve obviously got something more important than this going on so maybe I should just leave you to it. God, everyone is acting so weird today, did something happen that I just totally missed?”

The Hound perked up. “What do you mean everyone’s acting weird?”

Arya shrugged. “Oh, my sister was being really strange this morning. And then smart one here actually listened to me when I told him to come sneak in and meet me at the Lion.” She gestured to Gendry who just smiled. Did he ever actually get upset? 

The giant man across the table laughed, making Arya wince. “Well I think I can explain the second one to you,” he said with a hideous smile. “And how was the li – your sister – acting strange?”

“Oh, just nice, I guess. And kind of sneaky.”

He looked like he was trying to decide whether to ask another question, but apparently decided the better of it. “Well, I'm certainly no expert in being nice.” The Hound shoved his chair back from the table and stood, towering over her. “But yes, I do have something on my mind. We'll stop for today. I’m not doing you any good and probably just making you complacent.”

He waited silently while Arya shuffled up the cards and gathered her things, then he unceremoniously directed her and Gendry out the back door. He stared at the two of them for a moment with an almost undetectable smirk on his face which quickly reverted to his ugly scowl. If Arya hadn’t just spent so much time trying to read his expressions she probably would have missed it. Then he stepped back inside and shut the door with a loud slam. 

Gendry looked relieved, whether to be out of the Lion or the Hound’s presence Arya wasn’t sure, probably both really. He suggested they get a bite to eat, and Arya offered that maybe they could get takeout somewhere and chill at his place, watch a movie or something. 

He seemed surprised but of course was agreeable, and they picked up some Thai near his apartment. The apartment was a small but comfortable one bedroom in what seemed like an interesting, artsy kind of area. It was homey, full of things but not messy. They ate at the table, chatting over some of his artwork, then Gendry insisted on doing the dishes and cleaning up. Arya excused herself to the bathroom. 

Checking herself in the mirror, everything still seemed to be in order. She wore skinny jeans and a loose tank, with a hint of her black bra peeking out. The bit of mascara and brow pencil Sansa had applied earlier was in place and really made her eyes look awesome. The little touch of bronzer made her cheekbones pop. She had to admit her sister had done a nice job. Arya looked just like herself, only slightly a slightly better version. She reapplied a bit of the lip gloss she had borrowed and took her long dark hair down from its ponytail before heading back into the living area. 

Gendry was leaning back on the couch, scrolling through Netflix already. Arya sat close by, facing him with one leg tucked up and pressed against his. 

“What do you want to watch?” he asked, not looking away from the TV as she looked intently at him. “How about a good action movie?”

Arya shrugged, trying to act casual. “I don’t really care, we could do something else.”

“Like what?” Gendry asked, looking at her now.

She put a hand behind his neck and leaned in close. She saw his eyes widen slightly as she drew near but he didn’t move away, and when her lips reached his he was ready for her. It was better than the last time, as she adapted to his gentleness and he to her ferocity. 

As the kiss deepened she swung around into his lap, strong legs trapping him on either side. Her hands buried into his hair, and his moved up and down her back, first over and then tentatively under her shirt. She tugged him roughly forward to pull off his shirt, exposing his muscular chest. While their lips were parted, Arya quickly removed her own shirt too. Gendry looked like he might say something, so she quickly dove back in. He began kissing slowly down her neck, so gently and tenderly, light as a feather. Frustrated with his pace, Arya scooted her hips in closer and began to rock against him. 

After a few moments, she gave his earlobe a little bite and whispered, “Do you want to move into your room?” 

Gendry wrapped his arms tight around her, stilling her movements. 

“Arya,” he sighed, slightly breathless. 

“Yes?” 

“Can we talk for a minute?”

Stunned, Arya quickly pulled back. “You want to talk.”

“Yeah, before things go any farther.”

“You don’t want me?” she asked. He took a second too long to reply, so she pushed away from him and stood from the couch. “What the fuck?”

Gendry looked stricken. “No, that’s not it at all, believe me. I just want to be clear about what’s going on with this, with us.”

“Why does that matter?”

“Because you’re leaving in a week and if this isn’t serious for you I – I don’t think we should do anything.”

“Why is that?”

“Because,” he rubbed his face in his hands. “I don’t just sleep with anyone.”

“You think I do?” Arya snapped at him, arms crossing.

“No! I’m sorry, this is all coming out wrong, that’s not what I meant. I know you don’t like to think too much about the future. I know you like to live in the present and that’s something I really enjoy about you.” He stood and moved to her, hands clasping both her arms. “But I really like you, Arya, and I don’t think I can handle it if we get involved and you just leave and we never see each other again.”

“And how is that any different than how it’s already going to be?” Arya demanded.

He nodded. “I’ll miss you when you’re gone, but I don’t want to be just a fling to you. Is that what you want? I need to know. If that’s how you feel just tell me.”

“So you won’t fuck me until I talk about my feelings?”

Gendry grimaced. “Not the word I would use, but yes.”

She glared at him. “That is so messed up. You’re really asking a lot, you know.”

He gave her a small half smile, “I know.”

“I can’t do that right now,” she protested. “I don’t know what I think except you’re being ridiculous.” She took a deep breath. “I know that I like you, and I like spending time with you. Is that enough?”

“But what happens next week?”

“What happens _now_?” she shot back.

He just looked at her for a long moment, as she tried to read his quiet blue eyes. The silence between them was tense, but not uncomfortable. 

“Still want to watch a movie?”

Arya sighed, then reached for her discarded shirt and pulled it back over her head. He was obviously too stubborn to change his mind about this tonight. And she thought she was determined. “Why not? My choice though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments and love! I'm sorry I'm so slow... 
> 
> Sansa is next: she's got to talk to Joffrey about something


	12. Sansa

“Oh this is so nice,” Sansa remarked while flipping through a magazine in the reception area at Qua spa at Caesar’s. “Look at this.” She showed Margaery a page in Kim Kardashian’s spread in Glamour. “I love this quote: ‘I think to be kind is strong. I think to be polite is strong.’”

“Aww that’s cute!” Margaery smiled at her. “Well in that case, sweetie, you’re strongest person I’ve ever met.” 

“Oh shush!” Sansa blushed. “I just thought it was nice.”

“You’re also super smart,” Margaery continued, making a dramatic gesture with her arms outstretched. “It was the best idea ever to do this before I head back to LA!” 

The spa attendants brought the girls back to the dressing room where they changed and put their things away in lockers, then escorted them on to the warm Laconium room before their spa treatments, carefully keeping them hidden away from any other patrons. Sansa knew they wouldn’t bother with this just for her, but Margaery was a bigger deal. 

The little room was heavily scented and every time Sansa breathed in she could feel the hot air warming up her whole body from the inside, like a deep clean. 

Margaery lay down on the bench, adjusting her gold bikini top. “So are you going to ask me about last night?”

Sansa ducked her head and flushed, playing with her feet. “Of course, please tell me about it.” She’d almost forgotten.

Her friend turned to look at her, damp brown curls crushed against her heart shaped face. “We went to dinner,” she started. 

“Yes, that’s right.” Sansa attempted to look interested.

“It was a lovely place with a strange name, called Rose.Rabbit.Lie.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” she said, staring at her tidy fingernails looking for flaws. 

“The food was excellent,” Margaery continued more slowly, attentive.

“Good, that’s good.”

Margaery frowned, and with a huff said, “I’m so sorry, sweetie, I slept with him.”

“Oh okay,” Sansa said quietly. At least she wouldn’t feel bad ending things with him now. “That’s alright.”

Margaery sat up quickly and spun around to face Sansa. “Um, I didn’t, hello. I’m your friend and not a horrible person. What is going on with you?”

Sansa clasped her hands in her lap and looked intently at them. “Nothing’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on except suddenly you have zero interest in Joffrey Baratheon, who you’ve had a crush on for like your whole life.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” she admitted. 

An attendant came to escort the girls into the Arctic ice room. Once they left, Margaery sat next to Sansa scrutinizing her closely. Sansa looked around at the beautiful room, tall glass walls around them, and snow fell softly down to melt in her hair and catch in her eyelashes. 

“When did you decide this?” Margaery asked her.

“Just last night.”

Margaery nodded, a thoughtful look on her face. “I’m proud of you.”

“What!?”

“I think it’s great, you’re not afraid to let go of your expectations and change your opinions.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “He choked on his pie during dessert. One of the waitstaff had to come help. It was...” Margaery began an elaborate pantomime of what could only be Joffrey eating his pie and choking on it. 

Sansa burst into an uncontrollable fit of giggles, Margaery quickly following along. 

“I think your acting skills are underrated,” Sansa said. “Have you ever thought of what you’d do if you weren’t an actress?”

Margaery considered. “Don’t tell anyone, it’s kind of strange.”

“Okay…”

“I’m actually really interested in politics. I may still pursue a political career one day when my looks are gone.”

“So never,” Sansa smiled.

“Will anyone ever come along who’s enough for you sweetie?”

“Oh stop it,” Sansa leaned her head against her friend’s arm. “It’s hopeless, I’m thinking of giving up on boys altogether.”

Margaery brushed Sansa’s hair back behind her shoulder, and the cool air against her exposed neck made her shiver. “I could support that.”

Sansa sighed. “I think I need a man instead.”

* * *

Sansa had practiced the conversation in her head at least 50 times. She thought Joffrey couldn’t be too upset, he didn’t seem to care that much for her anyway. She was going to meet him at the Lion before dinner, and she would do it then. If he still wanted to have dinner as friends that was fine, but she would be upfront with him. 

She knew her parents would be disappointed, and that upset her more than anything, though she couldn’t see why it really mattered to anyone but her and Joffrey. 

She prepared carefully for the evening; her clothing was pretty, but modest. She chose a 30’s inspired Isabel Marant shirt dress with a cheerful sunflower print, and wore her hair down in big loose waves. She kept her makeup simple, not too unlike how she had done Arya’s that morning. She smiled to herself and wondered how Arya’s day was going, and hoped whatever she was doing that it was going well. Sansa was curious about what her sister had found to occupy her time here, and thought maybe she should have been keeping closer tabs on her this whole time. She thought of her own secrecy regarding her friendship with Sandor, and wondered if maybe she should try to talk to him, after whatever it was last night. 

As she shut the door to her room to leave the suite, she ran into her father. He looked like he hadn’t slept enough, like something was weighing on him. 

“Everything okay, daddy?” she asked, placing a hand on his arm.

“Oh, just fine.” He smiled at her. “Well don’t you look nice. Off to see Joffrey?”

Sansa’s face fell. “Yes.” 

“What’s the matter?” Ned asked.

“Oh,” Sansa pouted and clasped her hands in front of herself, trying to let him down gently. “I just don’t think I want to see him anymore.”

“Did something happen?”

Sansa shook her head. “No, nothing happened.”

Her father frowned. “Why the sudden change of heart? You two seemed to be getting along so nicely.”

She didn’t say anything. 

Ned took her by the shoulder. “Sweetheart, you do what you think is right. But please consider giving it some time, don’t make any hasty decisions you might regret.” 

Sansa pursed her lips in consideration and gave him a small nod. “Thanks, daddy.” She gave him a hug and made a swift exit, but not fast enough to keep her from having some second thoughts. 

Joffrey texted and told her to wait for him in one of the small conference rooms at the Lion while he finished up with some business he had there. She was ushered by a grumpy looking employee into a richly furnished room with plush red chairs and heavy red drapes. 

No one was there, so she settled down in a corner and waited, pulling out her phone. She was just thinking that she was surprised she hadn’t heard anything from Sandor yet today when the man himself burst inelegantly into the room, filling the doorway. 

He looked at her for a long time, something heated in his eyes as they studied her. She thought several times he was about to speak but he didn’t move. Sansa had a sudden acute awareness of her own heartbeat. 

“Good evening,” she said finally.

The large man finally moved, closing the door behind himself. “I’m to tell you that your date is running late,” he said, with emphasis on the word date, “Caught up in ‘highly important business matters.’” 

He stared at her again, lips pressed together, until he said through a tight jaw, “I thought after last night, after he ditched you, that maybe I wouldn’t see you with him again. Did he come to his senses and realize how much better you are than Margaery Tyrell?”

“It’s not like that,” Sansa protested, upset at having to explain herself to him. “I need to talk to him.”

“But not me.” Sandor moved towards her chair so that he stood over her, his face dark. 

“I don’t understand.”

He seemed to soften a little in his resolve but continued to scowl. “Don’t know, thought I might hear from you today.”

“I thought the same,” she shot back. 

“But you’re here to see Joffrey.”

“I am.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

“I don’t think you do.” Sansa stood, trying to draw herself as close to Sandor’s height as she could. He stayed where he was, and she was within inches of his body as she stared up at him. “I’m sorry if you thought - ”

“I don’t expect anything from you,” he interrupted. “I don’t want your apologies.” His voice was rough but with a wavering note. When did the room get so warm?

“Then what do you want from me?” she asked quietly. 

“Don’t you know?” Sandor reached to caress her cheek and tucked a long strand of red hair behind her ear before following it down her neck and across her collarbone. The brush of his fingers light on her skin made her tremble, and she closed her eyes.

“Still can’t look at me little bird?” he growled, hand moving under her chin. 

Her eyes now back open and looking straight into his, she slowly drew her own small hand up to cup his scarred cheek. His grey eyes widened in something that looked like fear as he drew in a sharp breath. With their eyes locked she felt both powerful and extremely vulnerable. 

“You know me better than that,” she whispered. 

At the sound of the door handle turning both their hands dropped and Sansa quickly settled back down in her chair. Joffrey entered the room, lights shining off his blonde hair, and Sansa hoped she didn’t look as flustered as she felt. Cersei slipped catlike into the room behind her son, studying Sansa from the doorway. 

“Hey babe, I hope my dog wasn’t bothering you.” He strutted over and reached out a hand to her.

“Not at all,” she replied, taking the offered hand. 

Joffrey pulled her to her feet, flashing a bright white smile at her. “Shall we?”

Sansa briefly considered. She couldn't do this like she had planned. She couldn’t tell him right now she wanted to break things off, not in front of Sandor and Cersei. And maybe her father would be satisfied with her if she just gave Joffrey this one more chance. “Yes, let’s go.”

Joffrey took her out on his own this time rather than using a driver. She knew he normally didn’t stay at the Lion and was mostly there to be nearby while her family was in town, but it didn’t seem like he ever walked anywhere. He had a bright red Ferrari, much too flashy for her taste. It might’ve been fun if they could really take it out for a spin, but there wasn’t much point in the city. 

During dinner he regaled her with a story of running into an old acquaintance whose family had fallen on hard times, and who was now having to work as some kind of mid level sales manager. He’d once been very competitive with this young man, and he seemed pleased as a peach that he had apparently won the competition. 

After a while Joffrey asked Sansa about her day. She was relieved he didn’t ask about last night, but then of course she would’ve been able to turn the question onto him. 

With a flash of inspiration, Sansa very nonchalantly answered, “Oh, it was very nice. I had a spa day with a friend of mine. You may have heard of her, Margaery Tyrell, the actress?”

Sansa was hoping for some sign of discomfort on Joffrey’s face but it was completely serene. 

“I know a little of her. The Tyrell family’s pretty big in the movie business.”

“Yes, that’s right.” 

“It’s good to have connections.” He arched an eyebrow. “I hope you’re not ever thinking of a career in film?”

“No, I –“ Sansa started. 

“Good,” Joffrey interjected. “I mean, you’re pretty enough, but it can be a pretty busy life and I’d hate to have everyone always looking at you like that.”

Sansa tried to figure out what he meant, but he started talking about his car so she let it go.

After dinner, Joffrey asked Sansa if she’d be interested in seeing the vaults under the Lion. Hardly anyone got to see them, he told her, but he’d show her since he trusted her. Thinking that actually sounded kind of interesting, Sansa accepted. She remembered Arya talking a little about the secret worlds underneath the casinos. 

They were, of course, highly secured. They passed several guards and went through numerous doors, and Sansa was quite sure she would never be able to find her way back out on her own.

Eventually, they entered a room with a thick metal door, and Joffrey closed it behind them. The room was filled with cash boxes.

“Pretty impressive, huh?” Joffrey asked, brushing his blond hair back off his face. 

“Yes it is.”

Joffrey moved closer to her and she backed up against a small metal table in the middle of the room. He snaked a hand around her waist and pulled her close, looking down the front of her body. “This dress really doesn’t show off how sexy you are.” 

“Sorry,” Sansa said, annoyed.

“Ah, it’s alright. Easily fixed.” He ran his hands under the collar of her dress and unbuttoned the top button. 

“No,” she grabbed his hands. “Joffrey, look, I was thinking – “

He pinned her against the table with his hips and his eyes glinted a darker shade of green than she remembered them being. “What were you thinking, babe?” His hands were still firmly at her collar. 

“I – I don’t think this is working out. I don’t think we should see each other anymore. Not like this I mean. I’d love if we could still be friends -”

Joffrey laughed, his hands moving to circle around the back of her neck. “I had no idea you’d be such a prude. Look, if you don’t want to have sex yet say so, but that doesn’t mean we have to stop seeing each other.”

“I mean, I don’t, but that’s not it.”

He nodded. “I think I understand.” Sansa let out a breath of relief and Joffrey continued, “I know some girls just don’t want to say yes, because they don’t want to seem like sluts. They still want it, but don’t want to be responsible.”

“No, Joffrey, that’s not –"

He pushed her down across the table on her back. “Bitch, you’ve been playing with me for too long.” He grabbed hold of her dress on either side of her chest and ripped, and it opened up all down the middle, buttons popping off and hitting the walls. “I’m not letting you go until I have what I want.”

Sansa screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for leaving the end of the chapter like this, but it made the most sense for where we meet back up with Sansa in the next chapter. 
> 
> I'm writing a fairly fluffy story here so don't worry about her too much :)


	13. Sandor

Sandor took a deep breath and knocked. Short of watching his little bird with Joffrey, this was about the second item on his list of things he’d rather not be doing right now. Ned Stark answered the door, looking flustered, and frowned. He checked his watch. 

“I thought I was expecting Robert.”

“Sorry to disappoint, it’ll just be me,” Sandor growled. 

Ned nodded, regaining his courtesy. “I guess you’re here for my answer. Come on in.” He backed away from the door and ushered Sandor inside, shutting the door behind him like a gate. 

As Ned led Sandor to the large table in the living area, Sandor admired the suite. It was elegant but comfortable, even for someone like him, with none of the stuffy glitz he was used to from his employers. They sat at the table which was strewn with piles of papers, a computer open at one end. Ned sat at the opposite end, with Sandor to his right. 

“I didn’t take you for being involved in the business side of things, if you’ll excuse me saying so,” Ned began.

Sandor laughed. “No, I’m supposed to intimidate you.”

Ned rubbed his face in his hands. “I see.” He was quiet for a minute, studying Sandor too closely for his comfort, eyes lingering on every little flaw, of which there were plenty. Sandor wondered what he was looking for there. “Are you aware of the particulars of the deal?”

“I pay attention,” Sandor responded shortly, confused.

He nodded. “And what do you think?”

“You really want my opinion?” What was the deal with these Starks?

Ned shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“I wouldn’t do it.”

The other man narrowed his eyes, which were locked with Sandor’s, still trying to read him. “Explain.”

Sandor sighed. “You haven’t committed yet because you know it’s not in your best interest. You think Robert wouldn’t even have proposed it if there wasn’t something in it for you, but you forget who has his ear.”

“I don’t understand,” Ned said softly, looking closely at him. “You’re their man.”

“I’ve been their man, yes.”

“And didn’t they send you to meet with me? They can’t have intended for you to talk me out of their deal.”

“I’m sure they didn’t, but it didn’t occur to them to ask.”

Ned nodded, considering. “You’re right about my reasons for hesitating. What are yours for being so open with me about this?”

Sandor clenched his jaw, reminding himself not to say anything stupid. He didn’t think daddy Stark would be too pleased about the time he had spent with either of his daughters. “You, and your family, you seem like decent people.” He shrugged and looked away in an attempt at nonchalance. “Doesn’t seem to me that you deserve to be screwed over.”

“Is Robert’s family not decent people?”

“I won’t speak to Robert himself, I know he’s an old friend of yours. But I’d steer clear of anything involving the Lannisters, and they’re the ones driving this.”

“Why should I trust you?”

Sandor shook his head. “You shouldn’t, you should trust yourself. I’m not suggesting anything you weren’t already thinking.”

“I suppose you're right." Ned sighed and shook his head. "I probably shouldn’t have given Sansa grief today about trusting herself either.”

“What do you mean?” Sandor snapped, maybe a bit too aggressively.

“Oh, she was just talking about calling things off with Joffrey. I was thinking if he ended up coming to New York with us to intern she might regret it… but I guess you probably think that’s a bad idea too, if you’re advising distance from the Lannisters, which I think you are.”

Sandor had difficulty formulating a coherent response while maintaining composure. He checked his phone. “You said it.”

“Well,” Ned said, “It’s… Sandor, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I know I’ve seen you around.”

“Yeah, the Lannisters’ dog, that’s me.” Sandor stood and began to pace. “Look, I’ve got to go.”

Ned looked confused at this sudden turn. “Okay. Well thank you for your time, I suppose you’ll deliver my response.” He stood and led Sandor back to the door. “I really do appreciate your honesty, it’s a rare quality. I won’t mention your input to our conversation.” 

Sandor nodded and hesitated outside the door, in a hurry but for once not wanting to be rude. With his eyes to the end of the hallway he said, “You and yours, you treat me like a man, and I can’t tell you how much that means.”

* * *

On his way back to the offices at the Lion, Sandor checked the GPS tracker on his phone to see where that little shit was. He wasn’t currently getting any signal on him, so Joffrey’s phone was either off or he was somewhere with no reception. His last read was at the Lion, so chances were good he was still there. 

He wasn’t going to do anything rash. Everything might be just fine. The little bird may have reconsidered breaking things off. Or she could have done it somewhere public, though he doubted she would do that out of respect for the feelings of someone who had none. He’d stay out unless he was needed, though he wondered if some part of him wished for a situation in which the little bird actually needed him. 

Sandor burst through the door of the main surveillance room at the Lion. At least he had the pretense of Joffrey’s security on his side. 

“Where was he last?” he barked, gesturing to the video screens.

There was some scuffling and adjusting of glasses as the other men in the room mumbled excuses and tried to avoid looking him in the face. 

“Is anyone here actually doing their job?” Sandor demanded.

“I – I think he was heading down to the vaults,” a small man piped up. Shit. There were some cameras down there, but the footage wasn’t easily accessible. They fed to a more private loop managed by an outside company. 

Sandor grabbed him by the shirt collar and dragged him to his feet. “How long ago?”

“Maybe half an hour?” 

“Did he have a girl with him?”

“Ye – yes, I think so.” Of course he did.

Sandor let go of the man, who fell in a heap back into his chair, rubbing his neck. He left the room as quickly as he had entered, leaving a flurry of activity behind, and stormed off for the staff elevators that headed down underground. The thought that he still might not be needed was forgotten. 

As he passed through security, Sandor tried to keep calm. If things had gotten this far, she hadn’t ended things with him at least when they started downstairs. Though if he felt he needed to show off his money, things weren’t going like Joffrey wanted either. It was a ploy of his, though not an incredibly common one, to take girls who might be financially motivated down to the vaults. Sandor shook his head at the thought of the little bird being impressed by piles of money. 

Out of sight, Sandor began bounding down the stairs. He knew every inch of this horrible place, its dark spaces and where people lurked. If he kept moving fast enough he could keep from thinking of all the things that could be happening right now. Maybe the little bird had a change of heart, maybe Joffrey had put on all his false charm for her tonight. The halls were dark and quiet and he could hear nothing but his heavy footsteps and the sound of his heart beating. 

He rounded the corner into the hallway leading to the main vault when he ran right straight into Sansa. Instinctively he immediately pulled her tight, holding her close against him for a moment. 

“Little bird,” he grabbed her arms and held her away from him to see her better. Her face was streaked with mascara and her dress hung open, ripped down the middle, one sleeve barely hanging on. She fidgeted with it, trying to keep it pulled closed. “Are you alright?”

She pulled herself back in to his chest, clutching his jacket by both lapels. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” She buried her head into his shoulder and Sandor wrapped his arms around her in protection. 

“Are you hurt? Did he – “ he couldn’t bring himself to ask, but given the state of her clothing and her distress... “If that fucker laid a hand on you I swear – “

“Shh.” Sansa put a delicate finger to his mouth, her blue eyes raised wide up to his. “He tried.” She looked down. “You were right, he doesn’t like not getting what he wants. Can't say you didn't warn me.”

“That fucking cunt – “ Sandor made a jerking movement as if to start off down the hall after him, but was torn between wanting to bash the idiot’s brains out and needing to stay close to Sansa. “Where is he?”

She shook her head at him. “I left him in the vault, he’ll be fine. It’s okay.”

“It is not okay.” Sandor offered her his black jacket to wear over her tattered dress, placing it as gently as he could over her shoulders. 

She pulled it around herself like a cloak and gave him a weak smile. “Arya taught me a few things, I thought it was silly, but she said if I was ever in a bad situation I’d be glad I listened to her. She’ll be pleased to know it helped me. Or… probably not, actually.” She giggled at the absurdity, then buried her face back in his chest and began to sob softly. “I’m so glad you found me.”

“Looks like you didn’t even need me, little bird,” he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and when she looked up and him he ran a thumb as lightly as he could across her porcelain cheek, catching a tear. “Though maybe you’re not such a helpless bird after all.”

Sansa gave him a weak smile. “But I like being a little bird to you.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so taking her small hands up in his large ones he said, “Let’s see those talons of yours.” He turned her hands over, running his fingers up and down both sides to check for any serious damage. Apart from a few bloodied knuckles and torn fingernails, she seemed to be alright. “That bastard,” he whispered through clenched teeth. 

Sansa grabbed onto his hands, then looked up at him in a tiny frown. “How – how did you know… that I would be here?” She glanced over her shoulder. “There aren’t – cameras – are there? Did anyone see – “

“No, I just – knew he’d headed down here with you. I didn’t know what would happen, I just wanted to make sure.”

“I’m so glad you did. I don’t even know how to get out of here on my own and I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d run into anyone else first.”

“Because you know I’ll protect you.” He’d told her before no one would mess with her while he was around.

Sansa furrowed her perfect brows at him. “Yes, and because I trust you. You won’t get in trouble for helping me will you?”

“They can all go fuck themselves, let’s get you out of here.”

As they made their way back up, Sandor tried furiously to quiet his churning mind without upsetting the little bird hiding under his arm. She tried to tell him earlier, she did, and if he had just listened to her instead of assuming things this might not have happened. He hoped Joffrey choked on his own shit. If he’d overpowered her, Sandor would finish him off right now. But his rage wouldn’t help her now. He wasn’t what she wanted or needed, but he would have to do until he could get her to someone else. 

He hated to see how she hid her face from security, as if she had something to be ashamed of. He wanted to tell them all how strong she was, how brave, but she wanted anything other than more attention right now so there was little he could do apart from glare until the few people they had to pass averted their eyes. 

Sandor ushered her out a back door into the dark, where he was parked nearby. He opened the truck door and gave her a boost up, letting his rough hand linger on her small waist. She caught his wrist as he began to pull away. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, a single tear on her cheek shining in the light from the dome lights. 

“Little bird, you absolutely do not need to thank me for this.”

She smiled at him, “Still can’t accept my thanks.”

“Never.” 

“Well I’m going to keep saying it, you can’t stop me.”

She still had a hold of him. “Maybe I don’t even want to.” They were silent for a while, looking at each other, alone again in the night. “Where can I take you? Back to your hotel?”

Her face dropped and he felt his heart fall along with it. “No, I can’t. I can’t see my dad right now.” Sandor remembered what Ned had told him, about trying to change Sansa's mind about Joffrey, and he understood.

“Do you want to call your sister?”

“No.”

“What about your friend, the Tyrell girl?”

Sansa shook her head. “She left this afternoon.” She frowned at him, and Sandor panicked. What wasn’t he thinking of? “I am so sorry to ask you this,” Sansa said, picking at the long sleeves of his jacket. “I just don’t know what else to do.”

“Anything,” he said quickly.

“Can I – could I maybe stay with you tonight? I just can’t face my family, and I don’t want to be alone.”

“Are you sure?” Sandor asked, before giving his head a quick shake and quickly adding, “Of course you can.”

“Thank you,” she said, giving him a little smile. 

The drive was short and they made it in silence, with no radio or conversation, just the quiet rumblings of the large, sturdy truck. 

Sandor’s apartment was small and sparsely furnished, and he’d never regretted either of those things before this moment. He wished he had somewhere better to take this girl, who deserved everything wonderful in the world and right now just had to make do with him. At least it was pretty clean, one benefit to having few possessions. 

He wasn’t sure what to do with her, but fortunately Sansa soon broke the silence and asked about taking a bath. Sandor showed her the bathroom, thanking anything that might be listening that he had a bathtub, though he was too big and awkward to ever use it. He got her a clean towel and a large glass of red wine and told her to take her time. Once he heard water running, he dashed off to change the sheets on his bed. He only had the one, so he got himself some pillows and a blanket ready on the couch, tucking away odds and ends throughout the apartment as he went. 

Too soon, he heard the bath water draining, and moments later the bathroom door opened to reveal Sansa wrapped in a fluffy black towel, red hair hanging wet and loose around her. She held the tattered dress out in front of her with disgust. 

“Do you think I could borrow something to wear?” she asked apologetically.

Sandor blinked at her, trying to get his brain to form coherent thoughts. “I don’t have any women’s clothes.”

She smiled, “Maybe just a t-shirt or something?”

“Oh, of course. Do you want me to do something with that dress?”

“I’d really like to burn it to be honest –“ she stopped with wide eyes. “But, um, let’s just throw it away.”

Sandor took it from her, brushing her fingers with his, “I’ll be right back.”

He buried the dress in the trash where she wouldn’t see it , and brought her a black t-shirt and some athletic shorts. The shorts just barely stayed on with the waist rolled and drawstring tightened all the way, and the shirt kept slipping off her shoulder. She looked so beautiful in his things. 

They stood in the small hallway between the bathroom and the bedroom, facing each other, not moving. “Are you afraid that Joffrey will come after you again?” Sandor asked.

“No, I think he figured I was an easy target. I would have been if it wasn’t for Arya. I just can’t believe I remembered. And thank goodness it was someone like Joffrey, not someone like you,” she laid a hand on his chest, right over his heart. 

“What do you mean?”

“You think I could fight you off?” she made mock fists at him. “What I mean is,” she shrugged, “I couldn’t stop you. But, luckily I know you won’t hurt me.”

She had no idea what she did to him. She couldn’t. 

“I got the bedroom ready for you.” He grabbed her hand and led her to the room, showing her inside but staying firmly outside the doorway. 

“Oh,” she pouted, pulling on his arm, “What about you?”

“I’ll be just out here, on the couch.” 

“Maybe – could you actually maybe stay with me?” He just stared at her, so she quickly continued, “I’m so sorry to ask and I've asked so much of you already. You've been wonderful and of course if you feel uncomfortable you don’t have to but if nothing else you take your bed and I’ll just stay in here on the floor. Just please don’t leave me alone.”

“Little bird,” Sandor pulled her back to him, and they stood close together in the threshold of the door. “I will not leave your side if that is really what you want. But I might bother you, I don’t sleep easy.” He ran his fingers through her still damp hair, and felt her shiver slightly. 

“I don’t mind,” she said, her voice just barely above a whisper. “I’d rather have you close. We can help each other sleep.”

She gave him a half smile and withdrew into the room, settling herself into his bed. She looked so nice there, a vision, too good to be true. Sansa Stark was in his bed. Sandor closed his eyes and shook his head quickly to clear it, surprised to see she was still there when he opened them again. She blushed and turned to face away from him, snuggling her face into the pillow and breathing in deeply. Gingerly Sandor slipped into the other side of the bed and lay on his back, hands tucked in awkwardly at his sides. 

Sansa looked at him over her shoulder once he stopped moving. 

“Thank you,” she said pointedly.

Sandor gave a small laugh and shook his head at her, “You’re welcome, little bird.”

She smiled and turned back away from him, nestling into the bed. “Would you hold me while I fall asleep?” 

After a moment, he rolled over and gently placed his arm around her shoulder, bringing his chest in close to her back but maintaining distance everywhere else. He could feel her relax, and soon her breathing grew deep and even. 

She wriggled back in her sleep, moving her hips into him. He bit his lip and willed his body not to react at the contact, at her perfect little body pressed against his. The last thing she needed right now was to be traumatized any further, as she surely would be if she ever realized how he really felt. She would probably pity him and that he just couldn’t take. He had wanted her since she first looked him in the eyes and asked his name when he walked her home from the restaurant last week, and he did still, but somehow in these last few days it had become something much more than that. He just couldn’t believe he was even allowed to touch her this much. He ran his fingers through her soft damp curls, breathing in her clean sweet scent. 

It was one of the best moments of his life, and still he was disgusted that he could find any happiness out of her suffering. The thought that she might come to her senses once the shock wore off in the light of day made him grip her tighter. But somehow for now she was here, unbelievably asleep in his arms and in his bed and in his clothes. He had never been so close to anything so wonderful. 

With the deepest sense of peace he had known in years, Sandor slowly began to settle into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me longer (in actual writing time) than any of the others, and it’s been one of my favorite scenes since I first plotted the story out. Well, this and the next one. I hope it comes across right, I didn’t want it to be too much with what Sansa’s just gone through but it’s still a super important moment for both of them. I can’t say I’m completely satisfied with it but I had a feeling if I kept editing until I was that it would never get posted. We’ll pick back up with Arya the next morning and I am sure looking forward to that! 
> 
> I know I’ve been super slow, but really appreciate all the love you’ve given this attempt so far. I have really been overwhelmed lately with how great this community is. There is so much excellent writing out there, and so many wonderful readers. Excuse my mushiness, and please, let me know what you think!


	14. Arya

Arya’s phone dinged once, twice, then a third time, waking her from a restless sleep. Groggily she stared at the screen, blinking and trying to get her brain to wake up enough to process what she was looking at. The texts were from Sansa. Arya sat up halfway in the bed, turning around and looking across the room to see her sister’s bed empty, still made up from the day before. Suddenly wide awake, Arya sat up completely and looked again at her texts. 

_Oh my god I’m so sorry I forgot to text last night_

_Did daddy notice I’m not there?_

_Oh my god I need your help_

Arya squinted at the screen, trying to come up with something to say, and another flurry of texts came through.

_Wake up wake up wake up_

_Please wake up I really need you right now_

_Text me as soon as you wake up_

Shit, what had her sister gotten herself into now? Arya rubbed her face in her hands, leaning forward into them. She must have stayed the night with Joffrey, and the asshat probably was either kicking her out or had left her alone. It was 9 am. Arya took a deep breath and responded.

_I’m awake thanks to you, what do you need?_

There was a pause before Sansa replied, surprising given the prior frequency of her sister’s texts. Arya hoped she hadn’t woken up for nothing. She’d stayed pretty late last night at Gendry’s; he practically had to kick her out as she was about to fall asleep on him on the couch, some shit about having to work in the morning. Finally Arya’s phone dinged again.

_Ok this is going to sound really weird and I will tell you everything later_

Arya waited. Sansa’s idea of what would sound really weird was probably pretty tame in actuality.

_I need you to bring me a change of clothes_

_And take me back to the hotel_

_And don’t tell daddy_

_Please_

Arya buried her face back in her hands. Had Sansa really left last night in something she wouldn’t be seen wearing in the morning? That didn’t sound like her; she might be fashionable and silly and too pretty for her own good, but her sister wasn’t slutty and never dressed like it. Did she think someone would remember what she was wearing last night? That seemed more like Sansa. For this reason she was tempted to tell her no, to see her sister’s discomfort at her walk of shame, or rather at having to repeat an outfit. But she said she needed a ride back to the hotel.

_Where are you?_

Sansa didn’t exactly answer the question, but sent her an address. It was definitely not within a comfortable walking distance, even for Sansa. Arya googled the address and came up with an apartment building, in an area of town she couldn’t imagine Joffrey living in. Curiouser and curiouser. Arya had a renewed conviction that something was going on that her sister wasn’t sharing with her. But then she wasn’t one to talk. Arya sighed. 

_Ok I’m coming, any requests for clothes?_

_Your choice, and bring my makeup bag_

Half an hour later found Arya in the parking lot outside a nondescript apartment building, in a car borrowed rather forcefully from the hotel valet. She’d been tempted to bring her sister something rather ridiculous to wear, a cocktail dress or something of her own. But something about the situation struck her as entirely too odd, and for once not right for causing Sansa any additional discomfort.

She texted her sister to let her know she was there, hoping to be invited up to the apartment so that she could investigate. Thankfully she was, and grabbing the duffelbag out of the passenger seat she hurried up to the door of apartment 3H and knocked. 

Sansa answered the door, just a crack, just small enough to peek out at Arya through. She gave her a relieved smile. 

“Thank you so much, I promise I’ll explain later. Can I have my things?” she reached a hand through the door. 

Arya narrowed her eyes at her. “Whose place is this?”

“Arya please, I need to change.”

Arya’s eyes flicked from her sister’s sliver of a face to her outstretched hand, and noticed it was bruised around the wrist and covered in scratches. She grabbed onto it, and Sansa yelped, letting the door fall open farther. 

Her sister caught it before it opened all the way, but Arya could finally get a good view of Sansa. She was wearing the biggest black t-shirt Arya had ever seen. It fell low around her shoulders, giving Arya a view of ugly purple bruises like fingerprints on Sansa’s neck.

“San…”

Sansa dropped her head, tucking her long hair behind one ear as she stared at Arya’s shoes. “Not now, please. I’m fine.” She swallowed. “Really, just – I’ll be right out, ok?”

“Why can’t I come in?”

“Please,” Sansa said again.

Arya heard a deep growling voice from further within the apartment. “Everything alright, little bird?”

“You!” she shouted, bursting through the door and past her sister, who tried to grab onto her. She sought out the familiar grotesque face of the Hound and jumped at him, kicking and hitting wildly, all her training forgotten in her anger. He easily grabbed her by both arms and held her out at arms length away from himself as she struggled. “You rotten asshole!”

Softer hands ghosted over Arya’s shoulders as her sister pulled her farther away from the horrible Hound. Arya struggled a moment longer before relenting, and to her surprise Sansa stepped between them, keeping her soft contact on Arya. She was wearing his clothes. She was hurt. 

“I was starting to think you weren’t a terrible person.”

The large man laughed at her. “That’s your mistake.”

“Arya, it wasn’t him.”

“Why are you protecting him?”

“He’s done nothing wrong.” She released Arya with one hand and flitted her fingers over the bruises on her throat. “It was Joffrey, Sandor helped me.”

“Sandor??” Arya spluttered. Then the rest hit her. “Joffrey, that piece of absolute shit!!” She wiggled free from her sister’s hand, almost ready to run out to door and find Joffrey and beat him to a pulp right now. 

Sansa shrugged, “Yes.” She stepped closer to Arya, almost whispering in her ear. “Now can I please trust you not to attack Sandor while I get changed?”

“Out of his clothes.”

“Yes, Arya, I am well aware that I am wearing his clothes.”

“Where are yours?”

Sansa’s jaw was tight. “Not right now Arya. Will you be civil?”

“Civil as an orange.” Arya glared at her sister, then looked up at the Hound and scowled at him for a while, trying to read from his ugly twisted face what was going on. He glowered at her, but there was something almost amused in his eyes. 

“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. She unslung the bag from across her shoulders and handed it to Sansa, jutting her arm straight out in front of her. She maintained eye contact with the Hound as Sansa scampered off down the hall, shooting worried looks back at them. 

Arya’s eyes darted around the apartment. There were two mismatched mugs on the coffee table, and a black and white movie was paused on the television. So Joffrey had hurt her sister, and she had no clothes, and she ended up at the apartment of one of the least likely suspects Arya could have imagined. 

“What happened to her?” she asked the Hound after a while, trying to keep her voice down for Sansa’s sake. 

“That’s for her to tell.”

“Did she stay here last night?”

“Might be.”

Arya shook her head at him. “If you hurt her – “

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Two of you might want to talk more.”

“Fuck you.”

They were quiet for a while, glaring at each other. Finally Arya quietly asked, “Did he rape her?”

The Hound shook his head, and Arya felt a huge wave of relief come over her as she breathed deeply. “She says no.”

“You weren’t there.”

“Do you fucking think I would’ve let him hurt her if I’d been there?” He struggled to keep his voice down, and the look in his eyes almost made Arya want to back away a little. 

So he would defy Joffrey for the sake of her sister. She’d said he helped her, and she seemed to trust him. Sansa had been acting strangely, and wouldn’t say who she’d been with the other night. She’d been hurt, something bad had happened to her, and the first person she came to was the Lannister’s Hound. At least now she understood why the first time they’d spoken he called her the other Stark girl, but had it really been going on already that long ago? Slowly, all the pieces of the puzzle were coming together in front of Arya, she just couldn’t quite believe the picture that they were making. 

Sansa emerged from the hallway wearing the lemon yellow maxi dress Arya had brought for her. Her long hair hung down around her shoulders, and she had artfully applied makeup to her bruises. Arya couldn’t understand how her sister managed to look so pretty even now. She came up behind the Hound and laid a hand lightly on his bicep. 

“I left your things on the bed.” She looked pointedly at Arya, “I’ll be right out.”

The bed and not his bed? Arya narrowed her eyes at both of them but nodded and stepped outside, stopping just beyond the door and out of sight, quieting her breathing. 

They were almost too quiet to hear, like they knew she’d still be listening, and she couldn’t catch everything.

“ – finish the movie another time?”

“ – don’t know what I’ll do if I see him today little bird.”

Little bird, what the fuck?

“ – wouldn’t expect you to quit for my sake – “

“ – nondisclosure agreement, I need to bide some time – “

Sansa briefly grew a little louder. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me, I trust you. Thank you again for everything.” 

Then they became too quiet to hear. Arya took a few more steps away from the door and settled herself against the wall, trying to look like she’d been settled there for a long time. Remembering what the Hound had told her, she tried to clear her face of the perplexed expression she knew was on it. 

Half of Sansa came through the doorway and turned back to face inside briefly before emerging the rest of the way. She was smiling and her face brightened even further when she saw Arya. 

“Thank you so much for coming to get me, you’re the best!” Sansa gushed as she got into the car, apparently not even wondering where it had come from. 

“Mmhm,” Arya nodded as she backed out of the parking spot. She was quiet for a while, studying the puzzle in her head a little longer before she said anything else. Sansa seemed content with the silence and settled into the seat, pulling out her phone and grinning at a text. Arya watched her sister squirm and chew her lips and she formulated a response. 

Arya pulled into street parking in front of the diner Gendry had taken her to the other day and turned to Sansa. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Sansa looked down at her hands and sighed, studying her fingernails for a while, and Arya noticed several were broken. 

“Well, I went out with Joffrey last night,” she started slowly. “I was thinking I was going to end things with him but hadn’t had a good time to talk to him about it.” She looked over sideways at Arya, gauging her reaction. Arya tried to keep her face still, encouraging. “Anyway we went back to the Lion and he was showing me around in the vaults and when I told him I wasn’t interested he tried to… force himself on me.” 

Just like Sansa to try to put it so delicately. Arya nodded with pursed lips. “But he didn’t.”

“No,” Sansa shook her head, looking down. “I remembered some of what you taught me. I have you to thank for getting me out of there.” She gave Arya a half smile. 

“That’s not true,” Arya protested. “You did it yourself.”

Sansa’s smile widened. “Thanks.” 

“So… are you ok?” Arya asked. She felt so ill equipped to comfort her sister, and thought maybe she understood why Sansa didn’t call her last night. 

Sansa took a deep breath. “Yes, I think I am. I was pretty shaken last night but I think I’m ok now. As long as I don’t have to see him at least.”

“Are you going to tell dad?”

“Probably not, I don’t want to make a big deal of it.”

“But it is a big deal.”

“It is for me… but I don’t want it to affect anyone’s business decisions or relationships.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Ok, just be extra careful until we leave here. Let me know if you want me to go with you anywhere.”

“Thanks.” Sansa looked out the window at the diner. “Where are we?”

Arya accepted the change in conversation. “Come on, we’re getting breakfast.”

“But I already – “ Sansa cut herself short.

“He made you breakfast?” Arya exclaimed. “Oh my god it’s worse than I thought.”

“What are you talking about?” Sansa asked, looking sincerely puzzled.

Arya sighed. “Let’s go inside, I’m hungry. Just get some coffee or something. And yes, I know you already had that too.”

They sat facing each other at a small table by the window. Sansa cupped her coffee in her hands like it was something precious and Arya started attacking her huge stack of pancakes while she waited for her sister to start talking.

When she didn’t, Arya prodded, “So, anything else happen last night?”

“No…” Sansa said slowly.

“You have to tell me how the Hound fits in to that mess, I’m not letting you get away with that.”

Sansa sighed. “It’s simple. I ran into him when I was leaving. He walked me out and I asked if I could stay with him since I didn’t want to go back to the hotel.”

“And that was not strange at all to either of you?”

“No…” Sansa said again.

Arya raised an eyebrow but didn’t push things any further. Whatever was going on between her sister and the Hound (which sounded so strange to even think about) wasn’t important right now. It was disheartening that even someone as sweet and beautiful as Sansa could have such a difficult time with her relationships. Arya realized she needed to give some serious thought to her own, but she would deal with that later. For the moment, she focused on getting as many smiles and laughs out of her sister as possible, and even got her to eat some pancakes and admit that the Hound’s attempt at breakfast was less than stellar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is :) I've had most of this chapter done for a while, but life continues to get in the way. What has surprised me most writing this fic is how much I enjoy writing Arya. I am nothing like her, but maybe that's why it's fun. 
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support on this slow project, I wouldn't stick with it if it wasn't for all of you!


	15. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... hi, I'm alive. Possibly moving to Montana soon, but alive and still writing. 
> 
> This chapter obviously took me a very long time. It was a really hard one for me, and for a while the characters just didn't want to cooperate with what I intended. I had to take a few steps back and give them another try in a slightly different way. 
> 
> I wanted to spend a little more time editing, but then I decided everyone had waited long enough, so I may just come back through and clean it up a bit later. Or not, we'll see. 
> 
> Arya will be next. We'll see what she's up to during the end of this chapter, as well as what happens right after. 
> 
> Maybe just 3-4 chapters left. Thank you for continuing to read :)
> 
> ****edits made 4/6/16****

Sansa was in surprisingly good spirits as she got back to the hotel with Arya. She couldn’t stop thinking about how she had felt waking up that morning, warm and peaceful and safe. It had taken her a moment to remember where she was, and it came upon her slowly as the pieces of last night started to fall back into place in her mind. There was a great, solid warmth behind her, deep breathing into her hair, a thick arm wrapped tightly around her. She smiled to herself and held very still for a long time, perfectly content, until finally the breathing become more shallow, then stopped altogether with a sharp inhalation. 

She kept her eyes closed and didn’t move, but the warmth and security left her slowly, carefully, until she was alone. Sansa waited just a moment, as if she were just now waking up, then rolled over to face her large bed partner. 

“Good morning Sandor.”

He blinked at her, steel grey eyes questioning and unsure. “Good morning little bird.”

Sansa tugged the rough sheet up to her face, peering out at him over the top, studying him. His long black hair looked softer now, touseled by sleep. The scarred side of his face was buried in the pillow, and she wondered whether that was purposeful, whether he spent much time thinking about it. She hoped not. He watched her as well, eyes softening as she continued to look right at him. 

After they’d watched each other for a few quiet moments, Sansa slowly and reluctantly got up to use the bathroom. The spell broken, Sandor got out of bed as well and moved into the kitchen. He silently made a spartan breakfast of black coffee and toast, while Sansa turned on the television and found an old black and white movie on. She watched, puzzled for the first time by the glamour and romance, and wondering for once whether any of it was true. 

He had joined her on the couch in silence, and she cupped the offered coffee mug tightly between her hands, feet curled up underneath her. He drank his coffee down fast, and Sansa noticed that with every sip a tiny stream fell from the burned corner of his mouth. 

As he went to get a second cup, Sansa toyed with the sleeve of his large t-shirt that she was wearing, and it was then, in a sudden rush of panic, that she actually thought about what she would do next. 

It had to be Arya, there was no one else. As much as her sister’s reaction made her nervous, it would be the best one she could hope for. 

She’d never known Arya to be as supportive and understanding as she was that morning. She hadn’t asked too many questions, but enough to show Sansa that she cared. 

She watched her little sister as they walked down the hallway to their room back at the hotel, and realized she was in awe at what an incredible person Arya was, and was still becoming. Sansa had spent so much time trying to change her sister and wishing she would be more like her. They were very different, yes, but maybe that made them that much stronger of a team. 

Their father met them in the suite, where he stood over the dining table pondering a large arrangement of red flowers, a frown lining his face. 

“Hello girls,” he said.

“Hi daddy,” Sansa responded, hoping she didn’t sound suspiciously chipper.

“I was surprised to find you both gone when I came back from my morning meeting.”

Arya piped up, “We went to breakfast.”

Ned nodded, thoughtfully, not completely convinced. “Sansa, these came for you,” he gestured to the intricate bouquet. “From Joffrey. I didn’t read the card.”

Sansa clasped her hands in front of her and looked down at them. 

Her father took a deep breath and continued. “I wanted to say - I didn’t mean to influence you in any way yesterday. You’re an adult and I shouldn’t try to tell you what to do regarding your relationships.”

Sansa nodded, briefly looking up at him with a weak smile. She had only barely been considering it, but now she knew she could never tell him what had happened last night. He would blame himself, though if that was the case she was equally to blame. She and her father were both much too trusting. 

Ned's frown hadn't left his face. “There was something else too, but it doesn’t say who it’s from or to. I did read this note but couldn’t tell. I assume it’s for one of you girls, and hopefully one of you knows which. The perils of having two pretty daughters I guess,” he said, trying for some levity.

He turned back to the table, and from behind the large arrangement of red flowers he produced a single lavender rose, with a yellow ribbon tied around it. Looped through the ribbon was a small piece of paper, which Ned read, “Little bird, hope you are doing alright today. Let me know if you need anything.” 

Arya slapped an open palm to her forehead with a small groan. “It’s mine.” Sansa said quietly, taking the flower. She held the perfect bloom to her face and breathed its clean, sweet scent. 

“Could you maybe get rid of the other flowers?” she asked, looking straight at the lavender rose.

“I’ll take care of it,” Arya offered. 

“Do you even want to see the card?” Ned asked her, holding it out.

“No.” But despite her response Sansa took the offered note and opened it. Arya tried to grab it from her, but she read:

_My dearest Sansa, words cannot express my profound regrets for the events of last evening. I let my emotions cloud my judgment, and in my passion I did not listen to your feelings as I should have. I only hope you will give me one last chance to prove to you the depth of my feelings for you._

_With deepest affection,_

_Joffrey Baratheon_

Sansa handed the note to Arya. “Please get rid of this too.”

“With pleasure.”

Their father sighed, aware that he was missing some important part of the story. “So I thought maybe the three of us could go out to a nice dinner together tonight, catch up a little. I've hardly seen either of you these last few days.” He looked back and forth between their faces for their reaction. 

The girls looked sidelong at each other, a silent exchange. 

“I can’t tonight,” Arya said after a moment. 

“Why not?” their father asked, not letting her out of this one easily.

Arya opened and closed her mouth. “Well, I have plans.”

"With me, actually," Sansa jumped in. "We were going to spend some time together tonight, just the two of us." 

Ned raised an eyebrow at them both but let it go. “Alright, well I’ve got some more meetings this afternoon so I may not see you much the rest of the day. Be safe and have a good time tonight.”

“Yeah, we will!” Arya said, tugging Sansa by the arm back into the safety of their room and shutting the door quickly behind them. 

“You don’t think we’re actually hanging out tonight do you?” Arya said quietly once they were safely alone.

“Of course not, I know you’re seeing someone.” Sansa smiled at her. “What I don’t know is why you don’t want our dad to know about it. You even talked about inviting them to the poker tournament before, but now it's all secret.”

Arya’s face was stone. “It’s not that I don’t want him to know that I've been seeing someone. It’s more a matter of who.”

“So you don’t think he would approve?” Sansa frowned. 

Arya shook her head, “No, it’s not that.” She changed the subject. “But what about you? You shouldn’t be alone, not tonight.”

Sansa chewed on her lip. There was no point being coy after this morning's events, and maybe she and Arya could help each other out. “I won’t be alone. I – I’m going out with Sandor actually. I wanted to take him to dinner; I’m thanking him for all his help last night.”

“I sure hope thanking him isn’t a euphemism.”

“Arya!” 

“Seriously though… what is going on?” her sister prodded.

Sansa’s first instinct was to deny it. Nothing had happened between them, not really, not like that. But to call what was going on between them nothing was wildly inaccurate and she suspected Arya already knew that. She just wasn’t sure what it was. 

“I honestly don’t know,” she said, completely truthful. 

She could see Arya’s mind working as her grey eyes hardened and softened in turn and she was quiet for what felt like an eternity. Sansa could see her trying on different ideas in her head, and hoped Arya wasn't coming up with too inaccurate of a picture. 

“Well,” Arya finally said, “We’ll probably need to leave here together, and come back together too for good measure.”

Sansa nodded, relieved she'd had no further comment or questions about Sandor. “Yes, we can have them meet us somewhere. I just don’t know where. God, Arya this is so weird. Will I get to meet your mystery date?”

Arya grimaced. “I don’t see how not. There’s a bar nearby where we could meet. I know the Hound knows it, I saw him there once.”

“He never said.”

Arya shrugged.

“And what were you doing at a bar, Arya?” Sansa continued.

She shrugged again.

Sansa sighed. “Whatever, that’s fine. Do you know what it’s called or do I just tell Sandor to meet me at the bar where he ran into my underage sister?”

“Yeah that should do it, he'll know.” Arya grinned widely. “So what should we do with the rest of today? I could use a nap - someone woke me up.”

* * *

As the sun was just starting to dip below the buildings, the two sisters made their way through the humming streets. Arya had asked Sansa to do her makeup again, which Sansa had gleefully done. She’d gotten a little more adventurous with it tonight, with a dark, edgy eye. Arya’s hair was down, long and shiny in the evening light. She wore her black leather leggings and a loose tank with a boxy sweater thrown over it, and Sansa thought she looked like such a bad ass though she didn’t dare tell her that. 

Sansa wore a form fitting, pale blue neoprene dress covered in intricate peachy pink floral appliques. Her hair was down and curled and she wore large jeweled earrings. Arya, never one to keep her opinions to herself, told her she looked like a fairy princess. She’d asked if she should go change, but Arya firmly opposed it. Their father had given the mismatched pair of them a bit of an odd look as they left, but said nothing apart from wishing them a good evening. 

Sansa briefly regretted her attire once she was inside the bar. She was sorely out of place and stuck out like, well like a fairy princess in a dingy local bar. At least it was dark, and fairly empty for now. And it was a fairly inconspicuous place to meet, which was perfect for her. 

In one booth sat a good looking young man with dark blue eyes, unruly brown hair and a hesitant smile. He stood when he saw the girls enter, and extended a nervous hand to Sansa, which she accepted. Arya stood back with an amused grin on her face, apparently pleased by his discomfort.

“Hi, you must be Sansa,” he said. She smiled in agreement. “I’m Gendry, it’s so nice to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gendry.” She looked to Arya with a smirk. “May I join the two of you while I wait?” 

Arya’s face fell. “No.”

“Certainly,” Gendry said, gesturing back to the booth where he had been sitting. “Can I get you ladies anything?”

“I’d love an iced tea, please.” Sansa looked at Arya, who shook her head.

Arya glared at Gendry as he hurried over to the bar. “Suck up.”

“I think he’s very nice.” 

“You would.”

“Is that bad? I thought most people want their family’s approval for their relationships.”

“Shush!” Arya commanded. “I know everyone will love him, I just don’t want that to affect anything, you know?”

Sansa thought about Joffrey. “Yeah, I understand.”

Gendry returned with Sansa’s tea, in a glass of questionable cleanliness, and the three of them sat for a few moments as Sansa made polite inquiries about Gendry’s work. He still seemed nervous, but she was glad for it. That meant he cared about making a good impression on her. From what Sansa could tell, he seemed really genuine and kind, and though she kept it to herself for now she thought he was absolutely perfect for Arya. Not a match, but a complement, and that just might be better. 

There were only a few other patrons in the bar, but when the door opened again they all fell silent, including the bartender, who paused for a moment before pulling a bottle out from under the bar. 

Sandor stood just inside the doorway, filling it with his massive frame. Sansa smiled at him and he nodded back at her. He walked over to the bar and exchanged a few quiet words with the bartender, who placed the bottle back under the bar. Sansa, slightly concerned that he didn’t seem happier to see her, excused herself to a gap mouthed Gendry and a grinning Arya and walked over to meet him. 

He was headed towards her by the time she reached him, and they stood there, in the middle of the bar, an uncomfortable space between them. 

“Good evening,” Sansa offered, though even as it left her mouth it felt wrong, too stiff. 

Sandor looked her up and down, eyes tracing the details of her flowery dress. “I’m glad you warned me about the dress code.” 

Sansa blushed, though he probably couldn’t tell in the dim light, and bit her lip. “I hope that was alright, I didn’t want it to be awkward.”

He nodded absentmindedly. His eyes darted over to the booth where Arya and Gendry were sitting, then settled back on Sansa. She wished he would say something, but it looked like she would have to take the lead. 

“You look nice,” she said, and he did. He wore black slacks and a black knit shirt that was thin enough for her to see the outlines of the muscles in his chest and arms. Sansa was glad he'd foregone the suit that would have reminded her too much of him working. She wondered if he owned anything that wasn’t black. His beard looked trimmed, and his hair was over as much of the burned side of his face as he could manage. She wanted to brush it back out of his face but kept her hands to herself. 

“You don’t have to say that, you know how I feel about chirping.” He shook his head at her. “You look fucking amazing.” 

“Thank you,” she said, worried he thought she’d just been fishing for the compliment, but relishing it anyway. “Well, shall we go? I don’t want to miss the sunset.” 

Sandor cocked his head slightly with a curious slant to his eyes. “I’m interested to see what you have planned for me, little bird.”

She blushed again, surely he could tell now, her face was burning hot. Why was she so nervous? “I hope you enjoy it. I thought since you planned our last – outing – that I would try to plan this one. I’m so afraid you won’t like it.”

“And you don’t think I felt that way – before?”

“But it was perfect,” she insisted.

He didn’t say anything, but she could feel him relax just a little bit. She was still a bit put off by his unease around her, and especially by hers around him. 

They weren’t far from their destination, and Sansa giggled to herself at leading Sandor through the streets he knew so well. He followed along with her dutifully and without complaint, quiet and a step behind. Sansa stopped outside the Stratosphere, looking up the height of it for a moment before turning her head to look at Sandor. 

This was too much, she thought with a sudden sinking in her stomach. This was a mistake. There was no way he could interpret this as anything other than a date. She should have just asked him properly. He just looked at her with the same curious expression in his eyes, like he was trying to ask her a question without saying anything. 

“Is this okay?” she asked. _If this is a date?_ she finished in her head. 

“Is what okay?”

“The restaurant here?” Sansa clarified, both for herself and him. 

“It’s fitting for a little bird.” He was unreadable, standing perfectly still at her side. Why was he being so distant tonight? She was messing everything up.

“Have you been before?” she asked. “Oh, I’m sure you have. If you don’t want to go it’s okay. I have reservations but I can let them know we’re not coming, it won't be a problem.”

He laid a firm hand on the small of her back, stilling her erratic speech and sending a flush of warmth down her spine. “I’ve been, but not to sit and eat dinner. It’s more than okay. Let’s go inside.”

In the revolving restaurant upstairs they were immediately greeted with great enthusiasm. She might have tipped them off beforehand that her dinner companion had a slight disfigurement, which they absolutely must not react to. 

“Miss Stark, it’s such a pleasure!” the host gushed, reaching out to take her hand. He bowed over it slightly. “We are so glad you could join us tonight. And you too sir, Mr. - ?” He turned to Sandor and awaited a response. 

Sansa was worried her companion might berate the host for his formal speech and titles, but to her surprise he extended his hand to the man and just said, “Clegane.”

There might have been a flash of recognition in the host’s eyes, but Sansa couldn’t be sure. “It’s a pleasure,” the man said, not missing a beat. “Please, let me show you to your table. I’ve got a quiet spot by the windows with a spectacular view, as the lady requested. And it should be just right for a nice sunset view of the strip.”

Sansa thanked him and he led them to the table. The view really was incredible, unobstructed by any other tall buildings, and the sky was just beginning to take on a hint of fire. She commented on the excellent table and the wonderful view, but Sandor said nothing. She still couldn’t figure out what was the matter. She’d slept in his arms last night, in his clothes, in his bed. After that morning she felt closer to him than ever, but he was so distant. 

Thinking back, she realized that she’d always assumed he wanted her. That wasn't so unusual, she was used to being looked at like that. But after what happened last night she rather thought he cared about her as well. Had one or the other stopped? Or had she just been wrong? 

“The rose was lovely,” she said, trying again. His gaze was buried in deep study of the drink menu. He grunted at her. 

“Anyway," she continued, "I wanted to treat you to a nice dinner, to thank you again for everything you did for me last night.” 

“I told you,” he growled, “there’s nothing to thank me for.”

Sansa grinned, glad at least for some response. “All the same, I wanted to take you out for dinner.”

“Because you feel indebted.” 

Oh, she had really done this all wrong. “No, because I want to. And, you know, people can express gratitude without feeling like they are required to do something to reciprocate.”

“Can they?”

She glared at him, though he still refused to look at her. “Do you only do things for people because you want something in return?”

“Maybe.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Then what is it you want from me?”

He looked up at her then. Sansa pursed her lips and awaited a response. As their waiter approached the table she thought she heard him murmur, “That’s different.”

The waiter introduced himself and rattled off a few specials, filled their water glasses and asked if he could bring them anything else to drink. 

“We’ll have a bottle of the Gamba Old Vine Zin,” Sandor told him. Sansa was a bit surprised, though she hadn’t really studied the wine menu like he had, she knew her wines and it was quite a nice one. “Anything else for you, little bird?” he asked her with a smirk.

“No, that sounds lovely, thank you.”

The fiery sky beside them burned brighter orange, interlaced with a few pink clouds. The strip was beginning to come alive with light. 

“It’s beautiful,” Sansa remarked.

“It’s alright,” came her companion’s gruff reply. “I guess when you know all the bad things that go on down there it’s harder to think it’s – pretty.”

“Hm,” Sansa was thoughtful. “I can see that. But I think it’s still important to look for the beauty in all things. Sometimes it can be in very unexpected places.”

He didn’t argue with her. 

"So..." Sansa ventured, "Did you see him today?"

Sandor nodded, his eyes watching Sansa carefully though an amused look slipped into them. "I did. You did a number on him, little bird. Very nice work. Seeing the marks from your talons was probably the only thing that kept me from beating him to a pulp today."

Sansa smiled and bowed her head. "I'm glad. Maybe it will help him remember what he did." She reached across the table and took his large hand in her small one. "And I know it must have been hard for you today."

He shrugged it off. "I'll find an out soon, I just don't want all the dirt I have on them to go to waste. Especially not now." 

"I understand completely."

The waiter returned with the requested wine, which he presented to Sandor. Sandor nodded and the waiter uncorked the bottle, then poured a small amount in Sandor’s glass. With surprising delicacy, the large man raised the glass, swirled the red liquid, sniffed it and took a sip. He nodded again. 

“It’ll do.”

The waiter filled their glasses and handed the cork to Sandor, who pocketed it. 

Sansa held up her glass. “To a lovely dinner,” she said. Sandor raised his glass and inclined his head in agreement. 

The wine was wonderful, rich and spicy, and Sansa sipped it eagerly and perhaps too quickly, and she soon felt comfortably warm. 

They didn’t speak much, Sansa content that some of her companion's earlier iciness had dissipated. She watched the sunset over the glittering city, happily enjoying what she had chosen this location for. Sandor paid close attention to his food, though Sansa could feel him watching her at times too. They shared oysters to start, then Sansa enjoyed the roasted salmon while her date devoured a gigantic aged strip steak. 

Sansa finished off her glass of wine and Sandor the rest of the bottle. Once the sun was down, the world beneath them seemed to glow even brighter than before. 

When Sansa had contacted the restaurant for the reservation, she gave them her credit card and asked for everything to be charged to it. She was surprised, then, when the waiter brought the check to Sandor, already charged and ready to be signed. 

“When did you – “

“When I went to the bathroom earlier.”

“You didn’t have to, I wanted to treat you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know, we talked about this. I just wanted to.” Why did they have to keep going around and around this?

“Maybe I did too then.”

She gave him a small half smile, though she wasn’t sure whether he was angry. “Thank you for dinner. Maybe I can take you out another time?” she offered hopefully.

He didn’t agree, but he didn’t argue either. 

They finally exited the Stratosphere back down at the street level, looking grittier now by comparison. They walked around the strip for a while. Sandor would tell Sansa a story about places or monuments they passed, something terrible or tragic or sometimes funny that had taken place there. She had the impression that he wanted her to see the same darkness he saw when he looked at the sparkling city. Between his stories, she would tell him ones of her own, maybe from her childhood or her life in New York. They seemed silly in comparison but she supposed that was the point, and either way he listened to every word she said. 

Sansa had lost track of the time, but it seemed like very soon when her large companion told her it was about time to head back to meet her sister. 

Ignoring him and not wanting the evening to end yet, Sansa tried to redirect. “Any stories here?” she asked. They were in a quiet, narrow side alley, presumably on the way back to the bar. Apparently it was not a good question to ask.

“What the fuck is this all about anyway?” He demanded, unexpectedly rounding on her. “Were you hoping to make me uncomfortable, did you think I wouldn’t know what to do in a fancy place like that? I’m sorry if I disappointed you.”

“That’s not at all – “ Sansa sighed, exasperated. For him to finally let go of thinking she felt obliged just to throw this accusation at her was just unbelievable. “I just wanted to take you somewhere nice.” 

“Why, so we could sit and be fake and stiff and polite?” He moved in closer, threatening, and Sansa moved backwards in response until she found herself against the cool brick wall of a building.

“So we could have a good dinner,” she said meekly, but looking at him and understanding some of his discomfort. 

“What exactly are you trying to do? Parading me around in a nice restaurant, walking me all over the strip like a dog on a leash, are you hoping someone reports back to Joffrey?" He wasn't shouting, but was obviously distraught. "Are you trying to stick it to him by being seen with me? That even his old dog is better than him?” He brought his hands with great force to the wall on either side of her head, locking her in place like a cage. Suddenly her world was only him, and it felt infinite. 

“You are better than him, but this has nothing to do with Joffrey. I wasn't trying to do anything. I’m sorry if you didn’t like it.” 

“Was I supposed to make you feel better? Was I supposed to fawn over you? You wanted an easy target.” 

“Why are you being like this? What have I ever done to make you think this of me?” She looked down through the small space between them, on the verge of tears. 

He said nothing.

“I thought maybe all of this, with us, meant something," she continued in a small voice. "Do I just annoy you? Frustrate you?”

“You do frustrate me.” He leaned in closer, she was surrounded by him, between the cold wall and his warm frame. Sansa could feel his breath on her forehead. 

She turned her face up towards his heat, and before she had a second to think or react his mouth was on hers. His lips were voracious, devouring her whole. When she recovered from the shock enough to begin to respond to his kiss, he pressed in against her with a deep growl that she could feel in her core. Sansa nipped at his lips and began to explore them with her mouth and tongue, giving a small kiss to the ruined corner. 

His arms pinned her solidly against the wall, and hers snaked up his chest to wrap behind his neck. Sansa was lost, everything else forgotten as she was carried away on a sea of want and warmth. She wished her dress had more give so she could wrap her legs around him as well as her arms, to hold him as close to her as possible. Sandor’s hands moved to bury deep into her hair, holding her face to his as he moved from her mouth, to her neck and ear and collarbone and then back to her waiting lips with his unrelenting attack. 

Sandor’s phone rang, causing him to pause for just a moment before he continued his onslaught with slightly less ferocity. The phone was persistent, however, and once the ringing stopped it began a sporadic dinging. 

“Fuck!” Sandor cursed, pulling slightly away from Sansa. “I’d better – “ 

She nodded, lips throbbing and head spinning. She thought she might fall over with him no longer holding her against the wall.

He maneuvered the phone from his pocket to glance at the screen. “That motherfucking cockholster.” Sansa supposed that must be Joffrey. 

As Sandor began to catch up with the events on his phone screen, his brow deepened into a dark furrow. 

“Little bird,” he frowned at her. “As much as I'd like to stay right here, I think we’d better go find your sister after all. I need to talk to that boy of hers.”


	16. Arya

The nice boy had cooked dinner for her, steak and baked potatoes, and it was actually very good. The steak was a perfect medium rare, cooked on the little grill on the balcony of his apartment. He told her that he grilled a lot, that he preferred it to what he called “actually cooking.” He liked being outside, he liked the fire and the heat. 

Arya was quiet while they ate, letting him tell her more about himself. He grew up with his mother, just the two of them when he was young. She had married when he was ten years old, and had two more sons with her husband. His stepfather had wanted nothing to do with him, and when Gendry was in high school he started apprenticing as a welder and spent increasingly little time with the family where he was only marginally welcome. Neither of his parents saw him as part of their real, official families.

He timidly showed Arya a sketch he had done of a new metal creature, a wolf in a pose like her tattoo. She told him it was wonderful, and that she couldn’t wait to see the finished product, and he beamed like it was the best thing he’d heard all day.

She contemplated him, this nice boy, artistic and strong and considerate, with his white smile and blue eyes. She thought she understood now, what she wanted. 

“Why did you approach me that day? Why even talk to me?” she asked. 

“You were special.” He reached across the table and laid a large hand on hers. 

“The fuck does that mean?”

“There’s just something about you, Arya," he said earnestly. "You have this quiet confidence that's not arrogance.” He looked down at their hands, his thumb stroking the top of her hand. “I never thought I had a chance in hell with you but I just had to try, or I’d beat myself up forever for being too gutless.”

Shit, that was pretty good, though she’d never admit it to him. 

“I can’t stay here,” she told him instead. “I’m young and there are so many things I want to do with my life. I want to finish school, make a path for myself. I can’t be tethered down, not yet.” 

“If you don’t want to be with me just say so,” he replied, looking her evenly in the eyes. “I just told you I knew it was a long shot for me anyway.”

“Are you even listening to me?” she asked him, shaking her head. “If that’s what I was trying to say then I would have said it. If I didn’t want to be with you then there wouldn’t be anything to work out.” 

He smiled at her briefly, then looked concerned again. “Everything I have is here, my family, my job, my friends.”

“Same for me in New York,” she countered. 

They looked at each other for a while, hands still touching on the rough table. Arya thought about what Gendry had said, about not passing up the chance to talk to her, and now she knew it was her turn. He'd put everything out there from the beginning. 

“I don’t mind flying,” she said finally.

“Me either.” He smiled tentatively. “And then maybe after a while, when you’ve made your path…” 

“That’s enough for right now,” she cut him off, and leaned across the table with a hard kiss. 

He stood and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, and she wrapped her long thin legs around his waist tightly. Their lips continued to battle ferociously as he stumbled the few steps it took to get to his living area. Gendry’s legs hit the arm of the couch and he fell backwards, Arya tumbling over him. 

They lay there just looking at each other for a while, exploring each others faces with their eyes, planning out their attack. 

Gendry slowly pulled her close again, meeting her lips softly this time as for the briefest moment. He began to move at a snails pace down her cheek, her jawbone, her throat. 

"Does this mean we're together?" he asked her quietly, mouth ghosting across her ear. 

She punched him in the shoulder, and he grabbed the offending fist and kissed it. First on the top, then on each knuckle, then slowly he drew out each finger and caressed them slowly with his teeth and tongue. 

Arya hadn’t even realized her eyes were closed when she was startled by his mouth moving up the inside of her arm, making her shiver. Her sweater had been abandoned the second Sansa had left the bar, but when Gendry reached her shoulder and the edge of her tank he gently tugged it and Arya obliged by removing it. 

She was bare underneath, an advantage of her small chest. His fingertips skirted over her shoulders, back up her collarbone, then lightly down her breasts. Remembering something, Arya pulled away from him and turned in his lap, causing faint noises of protest. 

She leaned over her shoulder to look back at him. “Look how nice my tattoo is healing,” she said, grinning at him mischievously. 

He leaned in close with a look of appreciation, and kissed her shoulder blade. “Beautiful,” he said. 

Arya rolled her eyes at him and pinned him back down onto the couch, counterattacking his compliment with a flurry of kisses. 

She didn’t think she’d ever kissed someone so much in her life, or been kissed so much. Her few experiences with sex so far had been much more to the point, and though she enjoyed the end result, she hadn’t thought she cared too much for the process to be any more complicated or drawn out than it needed to be. 

This was different. Gendry showered attention on every inch of her body, both the obvious and the seemingly insignificant. She had no idea some of the places she was so sensitive. They claimed every inch of the couch, and Arya wondered if she would ever become acquainted with his bed. He was a thoughtful lover, though it sounded cliché even as a half formed idea in Arya’s head, more intent on her than himself. But that was no surprise. He treated her like something delicate and precious, and Arya’s true surprise was that she kind of liked that. 

Afterwards they lay sprawled on the poor misused couch, Arya’s arm draped over Gendry’s muscular chest, her head tucked under his chin, a tangle of limp and fatigued limbs. He leaned in to nuzzle the top of her head, smelling her hair, and let out a deep sigh. 

“What is it?” Arya asked. She hoped it wasn’t time to go, she didn’t think she could move yet. 

“Best day ever,” he told her. 

After a while, they reluctantly disentangled themselves and went on a scavenger hunt for their clothing, and managed to even make it back to the bar on time. Or at least before Sansa and the Hound. 

For the first time since she’d parted ways with her sister earlier, Arya wondered what she’d been up to, and hoped whatever it was, that she was okay. Somehow, strangely, Arya had a feeling that Sansa was in good hands, and that thought was so puzzling to her that she just couldn’t think about it. 

They had just claimed seats at the bar when a hand clapped Gendry firmly on the back. 

“Now I see why you blew us off tonight!” Hot Pie exclaimed, beaming at the two of them. “Still not cool, but I get it.”

Gendry frowned, “I didn’t realize you guys were coming here.”

“Would that make any difference?” he asked.

Maybe as far as our meeting place, Arya thought. 

“Come join us if you want,” Hot Pie suggested, “We’ll try not to make too much of a fool of you in front of the lady.”

Gendry looked questioningly toward Arya and she shrugged at him. As they followed Hot Pie over to the table in the back, Gendry whispered to her, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“You know I’d tell you if I did. Anyway, they are doofuses but I think I kind of like them.”

After a round of drinks and continuous pestering from the other boys trying to gain some insight into their relationship, Arya began to worry about her sister again. She pulled out her phone, but there were no texts. They were only running about five minutes late, but for Sansa, barring their lunch mishap the other day, that was really quite a lot. 

She was about to text her sister when she heard the door swing open. She wasn’t facing it, but before she could even turn around she knew who it was by the way most of her table had stiffened up. Mycah hid his face in his hands. 

Arya glanced over her shoulder. The disconcerting pair was just inside the door, in the bar but largely oblivious to it, aware only of each other for the moment. Sansa’s hair was mussed, her lipstick just a faint remnant of its former self. Arya was horrified, and wondered if her sister would read the same sort of signs in her. 

Arya turned back to the boys and rolled her eyes. “Calm the fuck down. He’s not going to do anything.”

“What makes you think that?” Hot Pie asked her. “Because from experience – “

“Look at who he’s with dummy,” she demanded. 

“Damn, I didn’t realize call girls came that good,” Lommy said. 

Hot Pie, gap mouthed, elbowed his friend in the ribs. “That’s – that's Sansa Stark.”

“Why did she come in with the Hound?” Mycah piped up.

Arya shook her head as the boys tried to puzzle it out. 

Gendry kept mercifully quiet. He’d asked her quietly over a lull in dinner whether Sansa was still seeing Joffrey, and once she’d maybe too emphatically told him no, he hadn’t asked any more questions. She should ask him about it when she got a chance; maybe he understood this better than she did. 

Sansa’s eyes had found them, she grabbed the Hound’s elbow.

“I heard she was seeing that Joffrey Baratheon,” Lommy mused. “The Hound’s his man.”

“My god she is even more spectacular in person,” Hot Pie said in a reverent tone.

“So maybe he’s guarding her or escorting her?” Mycah wondered, ignoring Hot Pie.

They were getting closer to their table. “You guys just need to shut the fuck up,” Arya ordered quickly. “You say a word about it when they come over here I will personally beat you to a pulp.”

“What makes you think they’ll come over he-“ Arya kicked Lommy in the shin, just in time. 

“Hey!” Sansa exclaimed as she bounced up between Arya and Gendry, sunny fake smile in place, a hand hurriedly smoothing out her hair. “Have a good evening?”

Arya briefly met Gendry’s eyes before flicking them up to her sister. “Yes, you?”

Sansa nodded, “Mmhm.” The Hound stood several feet behind her, and if anything he seemed more on edge than usual. Sansa glanced back at him, then looked quickly to Arya, then to Gendry. “Um,” she said to him, “He needs to talk to you. Privately.”

Gendry looked concerned but stood, offered his vacated seat to Sansa and joined the Hound. Arya watched as they exchanged a few quiet words, then slowly walked together, side by side, towards the back door. 

“What’s going on?” Lommy asked from across the table. Arya kicked him again in the shin, harder this time, then turned to Sansa. 

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Sansa shook her head. “I’m not sure. He got a text from – Joffrey,” she whispered the name, “Then he just said we needed to go, that he needed to talk to Gendry.”

Arya frowned but didn’t push it further. Sansa introduced herself politely to the others at the table, pleased to make their acquaintance etc. They didn’t say much in response. Lommy frowned at her. Hot Pie barely managed to stammer out his name. Mycah was on his very best behavior. 

Arya had been watching them during her sister’s introductions and was startled when she heard Sansa exclaim over her shoulder, “Arya what is that?!”

Her fresh tattoo peeked out behind her tank. 

“What does it look like?" 

"When did that happen? I had no idea you had a tattoo! Can I see it?”

Arya pulled her tank out of the way. “I just got it here. Gendry helped me design it.”

Sansa studied the wolf for a long time, laying a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “It’s beautiful. Why didn’t you show me before?”

Arya shrugged. “Didn’t think you’d like it I guess.”

Sansa pursed her lips at her. “I do, I think it’s perfect for you. Arya, I don't want you to feel like you need to hide things from me.”

Not knowing what to say, Arya changed the subject. “What did you guys do tonight?” she asked, belatedly realizing she might not want to know the answer. 

Sansa gave her that dreamy little half smile Arya had been worried she would see. “Oh, not much really. Dinner, and then we just walked around some. You?”

Arya scolded herself. This was exactly where small talk got people. “Pretty much the same. Had dinner, hung out.”

“Where did you go for dinner?” Sansa asked.

“Gendry cooked.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow. “Is he a good… cook?”

“Actually yeah.”

They talked a little more in detail about the content of their dinners, neither of them apparently interested in or willing to talk about anything else. The other boys at the table were largely ignored. They watched the girls intently, but Sansa didn’t seem to notice. Arya supposed she was probably used to it, but it was still strange to her. 

Gendry and the Hound returned, stony faced, which was normal for one of them but unsettling for the other. Sansa quickly stood back up, offering Gendry’s seat back to him, as she took her place by the Hound. 

Gendry stood behind his chair; Arya looked up at him. His jaw was set, his eyes hard. He addressed the table, “My father died.”

Behind her, Arya heard Sansa gasp. They boys at the table offered murmured condolences. Gendry didn’t say anything else, just stood there. 

“Meet us outside when you’re ready, ok?” Sansa said, her soft hand on Arya's shoulder and a sad smile on her pretty face. 

Arya nodded and Sansa followed the Hound out the back door, giving the rest of them some space. Gendry moved slowly back into his spot at the table, sinking down cautiously, as if trying to get exactly into the same place he was earlier but unable to do so. 

Arya felt terribly inadequate. She slipped a slim arm through Gendry’s strong one, and leaned her head on his shoulder in an uncharacteristically reliant gesture. Somehow she didn’t think he needed her strength right now, maybe he just needed her. She thought about his comment earlier, that this was the best day ever, and felt slightly sick. 

Gendry addressed his friends, leaning into Arya. “We weren’t close,” he said. “You all now that.”

“Yeah but still,” Lommy said, “I mean, he was your dad.”

Gendry nodded and kissed the top of Arya’s head. 

“You need anything, man?” Mycah asked.

“I don’t think so, just – I wanted to let you know, I’m not going to be staying at my place the next few days. We think – I mean, I thought – it might be best if I’m not easy to find until everything has settled. I'll have my phone.” 

Arya found herself nodding into his shoulder. It was smart, there wasn’t much she would put past Joffrey and his mother at this point. 

"Do you need a place to stay?" Hot Pie asked. "You can crash at my apartment if you want."

Gendry shook his head. "That's the most obvious place for me to go. I've got something lined up, but it might be better if you don't know."

The boys had a few questions which Gendry deflected tactfully. They seemed to know a little about his father, but as far as she could tell didn’t realize the implications.

“Well,” Gendry said after only a few minutes, “I think we should get going. Arya needs to get back and I need to pack a bag.” 

“Um wait,” Hot Pie said as they got ready to leave. He addressed Arya. “Are you going to tell us how you know Sansa Stark?”

Arya shoved away from the table in a huff. “She’s my sister you idiot.”

His jaw dropped and Arya hid a little grin as she turned away. At least she’d made someone feel a fool today, so that was something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies. This was a really difficult chapter for me. As much as I enjoy writing Arya, Gendrya here was hard for me. It was important to keep it, because I wanted to show the contrast between the sisters in their romantic lives as well. I may not quite reach a mature rating here, but anything more just didn't feel right. 
> 
> I have another fic I've been wanting to write for a while now and have been trying to decide whether to start it or push to finish this one first. It would be shorter. Any thoughts or advice? 
> 
> Thanks for continuing to read and comment. This has been a huge learning experience for me and great fun. I just had no idea it would take me so long! 
> 
> You are all wonderful.
> 
> *edit* I just realized it's been exactly one year since my first post :)


	17. Sandor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after all my anguish over the last chapter, this happened pretty quickly and painlessly. 
> 
> Next one will be Arya's pov of the funeral etc. Just a few left guys! 
> 
> Also #sorrynotsorry about the end of this chapter :)

The four of them stood outside in the dim light of the street lamps. When he and Sansa had been hurrying back to the bar to find the others, Sandor had too much on his mind to process what had just taken place between them. He’d told Sansa that Robert Baratheon had been found dead of an apparent heart attack. He told her he needed to talk to Gendry immediately. He figured she’d put two and two together at this point. 

Now that he had spoken with Gendry, being alone with Sansa was too much for him and Sandor found himself relieved when the other two joined them outside. He could keep from thinking about her sweet lips on his, her warm body pressed tight against him, her hands in his hair, how fucking close he’d been to taking her right there in the alley against the wall. She might have let him. He was surprised she’d accepted his kiss so easily, especially after he’d been such an ass to her that night.

He growled at himself as he realized the others were talking. 

“So where are you going to stay?” Arya was asking. “I can know, right?”

Gendry nodded. “The Hound – Sandor – said I could stay with him for a while.”

Sansa looked puzzled. “That’s so kind of you,” she said to him, “but I’m afraid I don’t understand why this is necessary.”

Sandor shrugged. “I doubt they’ve thought of him yet, Joffrey won’t but it’s only a matter of time before Cersei does. I don’t know whether she’ll try anything, whether she’ll consider him a threat, but it’s better to be safe. I wouldn’t put anything past her.” He looked pointedly at Sansa. “She’s worse.”

Sansa looked down and bit her lip. “I’m glad he’s got you looking out for him then.”

“Yeah but why are you staying with him?” Arya asked Gendry. “You could come stay at the Stark. We can get a room comped for you.”

“Well…” Gendry faltered. “I guess because he offered and I couldn’t think of anything better.”

“Well luckily I did.” Arya countered. “I guess I’d just like to be able to see you somewhere other than his place or the suite I’m sharing with my family.”

Sansa frowned. “But there’s the whole city where you can – oh.” She trailed off, embarrassed. 

Sandor had to hide a chuckle. He was going soft for sure. “That should be plenty safe. Can’t say I was thrilled to share my apartment anyway.”

“No, I bet not,” Arya said, raising a critical eyebrow at him.

“Well then it’s settled.” Sansa announced, trying to regain her composure. “I’ll make arrangements. You are welcome as long as you need to stay,” she told Gendry, with a soft hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry you’re having to deal with this on top of the loss of your father.”

Sandor watched Arya scowl, unnoticed, at Sansa. 

His little bird was so sweet, she had no idea that her attentions could come across as anything other than innocent. Sandor took her elbow as gently as he could by the hand, much too affected by the feeling of her bare warm skin under his fingers. 

“Let’s go with the boy to get his things,” he suggested. “And then you ladies can see him settled.”

Sandor stood quietly by Gendry’s front door as he packed, watching as the girls flitted around, Sansa with helpful suggestions and Arya snapping orders. The little bird looked his way from time to time but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. He was unsure how things stood between them. 

She’d taken him to a nice dinner, and then he’d proceeded to be a complete and total dick about it. She’d been justifiably upset, was still upset when he’d said to hell with it and kissed her. He didn’t know if she still was. She should be, after the way he’d been towards her. But from the way she had kissed him back, and the way she had been acting since then, he couldn’t tell.

He ended up heading back with them to the hotel, though he certainly didn’t need to and wasn’t quite sure why he did. Sandor supposed he just didn’t get the feeling yet that he was unwelcome, so he might as well be close to his little bird while he could. He faltered in the lobby, unsure of where to go from here, but Sansa somehow seemed to know exactly what to do as always. 

“Stay for a while,” she commanded him, and directed them all towards the bar. “Here, you all go sit down, I’ll take care of getting a room for Gendry.”

The three of them selected a high top in a dark corner and sat in complete silence, Sandor looking at his hands, the other two at their phones. There were a few people at the bar, and between them and the televisions they created enough ambient noise to keep their table’s silence from becoming uncomfortable. Sandor strongly considered getting himself a stiff drink, but decided to hold off. 

Sansa joined them shortly, key card envelope in hand, looking like an angel in her long blue dress with the light from the lobby shining behind her. 

“You’re all set,” she said, sliding it across the table to Gendry with a dazzling smile. “It’s in Arya’s name, so no worries about the Lannisters tracking you down here.”

“I can’t believe you’re still working for those asshats,” Arya said accusingly to Sandor. 

He just shrugged but to his surprise Sansa jumped in to his defense. “It’s for the best, especially now, wouldn’t you agree? He can keep us in the loop.”

Arya seemed satisfied with this, if still a bit suspicious. 

“So, San,” she said casually. “I was thinking that we should extend our stay. I mean, I want to stay for the funeral at least, whenever it is, and I’d like it if you’d stay too.” 

“Of course,” the little bird said, flashing her pretty smile at her sister. “I absolutely think we should stay. I’ll take care of changing our tickets.”

She looked over and him and Sandor could swear she blushed a little. 

“Thanks, you’re the best. I’m going to see Gendry to his room,” Arya told Sansa. “I’ll see you upstairs.”

Sansa looked pointedly at her. “I’ll wait up.” 

The pair headed around the corner to the elevators, leaving Sandor alone again with his little bird. 

No, not his. 

Sansa swiveled around in the barstool, long legs crossed, her blue dress stretched tight around them, dark red hair swept in perfect loose curls over her shoulder. She was so fucking hot. Beautiful, perfect, kind. And here, with him. She was looking at him, thinking, eyes narrowed. Shit. 

“So you knew Arya was seeing Gendry.” She looked right at him, unblinking.

He nodded.

“And you knew who he was.”

“I did.”

“And she knew, that he’s Robert’s son?”

“Not at first, but yes.”

Sansa bit her lip, her brow slightly furrowed. “When have you been around them together, exactly? Arya just mentioned seeing you at the bar.”

“Yes, first there.” He was glad she seemed to have missed the details of this encounter. “Then they came to the Lion a few times when I was on duty.” Best to keep things simple.

She nodded. “It was best you didn’t tell me. I couldn’t have kept my mouth shut.”

“That’s not why I didn’t.”

“I know,” she said, fixing him with her gorgeous blue eyes, “It just wasn’t your business and it wasn’t mine. You did the right thing.”

He snorted.

“I know you don’t think of it like that, it’s just the way you are and I appreciate that.”

He didn’t know what to say. Sansa smiled and laid a soft hand on his arm. 

“I had a nice time with you, all things considered.” She blushed. “I’m sure things will be busy for you the next few days but I’d like to see you.” She hesitated when he didn’t show any response. His brain was struggling to find the hidden meaning behind her words and coming up blank. “That is,” she continued slowly, “if you want to see me.”

“Of course I do,” he said quickly. 

The little bird’s face lit up. “Great!” She just looked at him for a while, flickers of different expressions crossing her face as she studied his. “Well, I should go catch up with Arya. Text me?”

Sandor nodded. She smiled at him as she slid out of her seat and moved to stand in front of him; they were eye to eye with him still seated. 

“Goodnight,” she said quietly, and started to lean in towards him. He closed his eyes out of some instinct, and imagined that her lips ghosted down lightly and quickly over his own, but they didn’t. 

Eyes still closed, Sandor could feel her move away and he had a sudden overwhelming sensation of loss. 

“Goodnight, little bird,” he said, as she disappeared around the corner.

Sandor sat alone at the table for a few moments, trying to decide whether to get that drink after all. He was about to head over to the bar when his phone dinged.

It wasn’t Sansa, as he hoped, or Joffrey, as he expected. It was Cersei. 

_Meet me in the office right now_


	18. Arya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sat on this one for a while, I'll admit. I had an idea about another direction I could go with the story but ultimately decided to stick with the original(ish) plan. When things really go badly, help is more obvious. But isn't help really worth more if it keeps things from becoming so horrible in the first place? It may not make the most compelling story, but it's the way I've decided to go. Thank you for continuing to read and comment and for all the love. This has been a great experience for me and you are all a huge part of that.

“What the fuck am I supposed to wear to this stupid thing anyway?”

Sansa sighed. “You know what you’re supposed to wear to a funeral, Arya.”

“What, black?” Arya threw her black leather pants onto the bed in despair, the sounds of Halsey streaming from Sansa’s phone over the bluetooth speaker.

_Tired of all these cameras flashing, sick of being poised_

_Now my neck is open wide, begging for a fist around it_

An odd choice, Arya thought, considering the bruises she knew were still blooming under the makeup on her sister’s neck. 

Sansa looked briefly away from her cell phone to give her a patronizing look. “Not just anything black, and not necessarily black, that’s a common misconception. Most dark colors are ok, the idea is to look somber, demure.”

“You can shove demure right up your – “

“You were the one who asked me!” Sansa snapped. She’d been extra irritable the last few days, working hard on her monthly magazine article, “The Stark Look,” which she claimed was terribly overdue and suddenly quite urgent. She even dragged Arya all over town and insisted on taking pictures with her, something she hadn’t done before. 

Arya rubbed a hand over her face. “I can’t do this, San. I can’t go be the perfect little sad supportive girlfriend. I can’t stand there next to him and be introduced to every person giving their stupid small talk condolences while they’re wondering what’s in it for them. This should have been you, you always know what to do and say.”

Sansa sat her phone down on her bed in a huff. “That’s so not true. First of all, it shouldn’t be anyone. And secondly, it should be you, because you’re the one he needs to be there.”

“I did not sign up for this.”

“Then don’t go,” her sister suggested with a shrug.

Arya rolled her eyes. “I’m going.” 

Sansa flashed her perfect white smile. “Of course you are. Look, just be yourself. That’s who Gendry wants, and you’re doing it for him and not anyone else.”

Arya looked at Sansa, slightly stunned. “Thanks.” When did Sansa start condoning not caring what others think? And when did Arya start caring?

Sansa had just gotten back to her phone, and Arya back to rifling through Sansa’s clothes, when there was a soft knock on the door. 

“Come in,” they both said, and their father opened the door a crack, glancing in hesitantly before taking a full step inside. 

“Girls,” he said. 

Arya stole a quick look over at her sister, who had set her phone face down on the bed and straightened up to face their father. 

“Sit down,” Sansa said, gesturing to the foot of her bed, the only empty sitting surface in the room after Arya’s wardrobe woes. 

He did as she directed, sinking gratefully into the soft mattress. He wore a crisp grey suit, for a meeting today, he had told them earlier, but his eyes were loose from lack of sleep and there was rough stubble on his jaw. 

He reached out for Sansa’s hand, which she took with a tender smile. 

“I just wanted to say how much it means to me that you chose to stay for Robert’s funeral.”

The girls both looked down. 

“Your mother was thinking of coming too.” Arya’s head shot right back up, eyes wide. Oh please god no. “Even though she’s never been much fond of Robert, especially after her married Cersei. But she has a big benefit tomorrow night and with you girls here I decided to let her off the hook.”

Arya could feel the tension that had built in her jaw and neck dissipate just as quickly as it had come. From the corner of her eye she could see Sansa let out a long breath. The three of them were quiet as Halsey crooned: 

_They think I’m insane, they think my lover is strange_

_But I don’t have to fucking tell them anything, anything_

Sansa flushed and grabbed her phone to hit pause. 

“I’ll be glad to have you girls with me, anyway,” Ned continued, whether or not he had noticed his daughters’ reactions to discussion of their mother. “There will be a long, probably tedious reception after the funeral and I don’t know if I could do it without the two of you at my sides.”

Sansa looked uncomfortably over at Arya, and her mouth started working out some kind of story or excuse. 

“It’s ok San,” Arya jumped in before her sister could say something stupid. She shook her head. “Dad, look, I’ll be there with Robert’s son, I’ve been seeing him. That’s really why I’m staying.”

He looked puzzled. “Tommen?”

“No, dad,” Arya sighed. “Gendry Waters.”

Ned hesitated, brows knit in deep thought. “Gendry,” he said finally, looking closely at Arya. “I remember.” 

Arya nodded. 

“I’ve never met him,” their father continued. “But Robert only ever spoke well of him.”

A flood of commentary bombarded Arya’s brain. How that was bullshit and Robert probably only ever mentioned him in the context of the problems he’d caused. How maybe if that were true he should have said so to Gendry instead of Ned. But this would do no good, so she bit her tongue and nodded. 

“I’d love to be able to meet him while I’m in town. Maybe sometime after the funeral we can all spend some time together.”

“Sure,” Arya said quietly. It wasn’t high on the list of things she wanted to do, but she knew her father and she knew Gendry, and she knew it would go absolutely perfectly. 

“Have you met him, Sansa?” Ned asked.

Sansa nodded. “Yes daddy, he’s lovely. You and mom will adore him.” She seemed a little sad, though Arya had no idea why she would be. 

Their father beamed. “Well, I’m glad I’ll have you with me at least, sweetheart.”

* * *

Arya was pleased with the outfit she’d managed to put together. She wore a short, black cotton Tibi dress with big sleeves and cut out shoulders, with her trademark leather pants underneath. It felt like her, but still in the realm of appropriate for a funeral. She’d been spared by Gendry from having to attempt making any awkward introductions. He’d walked right up to Ned and Sansa when they entered the church, greeted Sansa like an old friend, and held a strong hand out to Ned. 

“Mr. Stark,” he said, with a smile probably only Arya could tell was nervous. “Gendry Waters, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Please, call me Ned,” he said, taking the offered hand and shaking it warmly. “My condolences about your father.”

“The same to you sir, I know you were very close.”

“Robert was a good man and a great friend of mine.” Ned shook his head a little. “You look just like him.”

“Thank you sir.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Gendry.”

They’d exchanged only brief introductions, but before her father and sister moved on, Ned lightly squeezed Arya’s arm and nodded at her, a sign of his approval meant only for her. It was just too easy, too right. Ugh, her mother would be so pleased. 

She sat by Gendry, who was stoic in his black suit in the front row, on the opposite side of the church from Cersei, her children, and her twin brother. Gendry carefully avoided any eye contact with them and they did the same, after Cersei gave the two of them a long look over. Sansa sat next to Arya, Ned on her other side. 

While Arya felt adequately dressed, and was certainly no judge of appropriate attire, she found herself wondering about her sister’s clothing choices for the occasion. Sansa wore a black sheath dress that fit like skin, high necked but with a daring slit up the thigh and tall stilettos. Unlike the others in their row who painstakingly avoided looking across the aisle, Sansa’s gaze kept wandering over. 

Arya couldn’t much see the point in funeral services. Everyone dies, and most people aren’t that much of a loss to the world. Maybe to a few people, but they would do their real grieving in private, over the course of months or even years. A funeral seemed like a big production over something that happened to everyone eventually. 

But that was her. Maybe some people found it comforting. She laid a hand on Gendry’s thigh and tried to focus on the droning old man in front of her.

There was no burial, as Robert had elected to be cremated with his ashes entrusted to Ned. Arya’s father had told her that he wouldn’t be able to do with them as Robert really wanted, though he didn’t say what that was, but he would find something suitable. Arya suspected he had just wanted to make sure he wasn’t buried with Cersei. 

There was, however, a large reception after the funeral. Cersei announced it between sniffles, saying it’s what Robert would have wanted, for all his friends and family to be together and have a party in his memory. That fake bitch.

Arya stuck close by Gendry’s side, partly for his sake but mostly for hers. She didn’t know these people, and with very few exceptions the ones she did know she would rather not. 

Her fears of empty condolences turned out to be largely unfounded, probably because hardly anyone even knew who Gendry was or his close relation to the deceased. Neither of them said much, but he kept his strong arm always firmly connected to her. 

It was a large crowd full of important looking people. Their father seemed to know quite a few of them and he passed authoritatively through the room from one business-man type to another, greeting many of them as long lost friends. 

Sansa had abandoned his side, though not for the Hound as Arya had suspected. She was in deep conversation with a beautiful girl of about the same age with the palest blonde hair Arya had ever seen. Maybe they were friends, or maybe the pretty people just gravitate towards each other naturally. She looked vaguely familiar but Arya couldn’t place her. She couldn’t hear them from where she and Gendry stood, but the girl did glance their way more than once with her violet eyes. 

Arya found the Hound always close by either Cersei or Joffrey. She supposed this was reason enough for Sansa to keep her distance from him, but she wondered why he stayed so close. Surely they couldn’t be too concerned about their safety at an event like this. 

She couldn’t understand him. She hadn’t seen him since the night they’d moved Gendry to the hotel, and from what she could gather, Sansa hadn’t either. The one time she’d questioned her sister, she’d mumbled something about lying low until things were settled and her being so busy anyway, but her eyes were uncertain and she clammed up quickly. 

Maybe because she had been looking that way, even though it hadn’t been directed at any of the Lannisters, Arya noticed that Cersei was watching her. No, watching her and Gendry, together. It was probably a surprise to her, Arya figured, to see any of the Starks friendly with Robert’s bastard son she had tried so hard to alienate. Hell, she was probably surprised that Gendry even had the nerve to show up. 

But there was something else in her eyes than surprise. The Hound had been worried that Cersei would take more aggressive action against Gendry. So far, they’d had no indication that the thought had even crossed her mind, no sign of any danger. But here there was something, a look of something like suspicion. 

Arya looked right back at her, with as innocent a look as she could put on. Cersei’s eyes narrowed. Without a glance back at the Lannister party, Arya excused herself from Gendry and headed toward the bar to get them some drinks. 

As she expected, it wasn’t long before she had company. She heard the clacking of heels behind her and smelled a too sweet perfume. 

“Arya Stark.”

“Cersei Lannister, glad you know my name.”

“I’m a little surprised to see you here. I had understood you and your sister would be gone by now.”

Arya shrugged.

“Have you been acquainted with Mr. Waters long?” she asked, quietly but pointedly.

Arya raised an eyebrow at the emphasis on his last name, his mother’s name. “Not long.”

“A new acquisition then.”

“Are you calling me a slut? Because I couldn’t give two shits. Not even one, really.” 

Cersei’s red lips curled in something reminiscent of a smile. “Maybe recent events have led you to believe there might be something to gain.”

Arya blinked at her, stone faced. “That’s interesting, coming from the person who arguably has the most to gain.”

Disappointingly, since she’d been hoping to get a rise out of her, Cersei seemed pleased by this response. “My apologies,” she said sweetly, taking one of the two glasses of wine the bartender had just brought for Arya, “I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Don’t mistake me for my father or sister,” Arya said before the blonde woman could disappear back into the crowd. “Leave Gendry alone, he wants nothing to do with you.”

Cersei narrowed her eyes at her. “What do you possibly think you can do to me?”

“You’re right that I don’t work like you do,” Arya smiled. “I can’t destroy you professionally or ostracize you socially. But,” she leaned in closer to Cersei, “did you like what I taught my sweetheart of a sister to do? I’m sure you’ve had a chance to admire her work.” 

Cersei raised an eyebrow at Arya and inclined her head in a gesture of understanding, if not agreement. 

The crowd wasn’t even remotely starting to thin, and the room was uncomfortably warm. Arya hung back to get a replacement for the rudely stolen glass of wine before rejoining Gendry. When she looked for him, though, he wasn’t where she’d left him. 

After a few seconds of panic she located him, talking with Sansa and the girl with ice blonde hair. As Arya approached, Gendry caught sight of her and beamed. 

“Hey babe, this is Dany,” he said, gesturing towards the pretty blonde girl. “I knew her when we were really young but she’s been – where have you been exactly?” 

The girl called Dany laughed, a silver sound. “Too many places to count, and some I’d rather forget.”

“I just felt horrible when I heard about what happened,” Gendry said to her.

“Thank you,” she replied with a sad smile, “I appreciate that.” She paused, looking him over, and Arya felt prickly. “I’d really like to talk more, but not here. Sansa will set something up.”

Arya wondered who’d made this strange girl in charge. Dany shook all their hands, like they were business partners rather than friends, and this made Arya a little more comfortable with Gendry’s stunningly beautiful childhood aquaintance. After saying goodbye to them she vanished, and Arya did not see her again the rest of the evening.


	19. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’re getting close to the end here guys! Ready to see Sansa playing the game?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, I’m back! If you’re still with me, THANK YOU. Really, truly, thank you. To any of you who are just joining me now, thank you too and hi! I’m on a never ending quest to improve my writing so feedback is and has been highly appreciated. 
> 
> Some past chapters have also been edited, nothing that effects the story just a few minor tweaks.
> 
> In the next chapter we’ll go back to Sandor, and pick up from where he left off last time, before moving on to the next day.

Sansa lay soaking in the hot bathtub, surrounded by sweet smelling bubbles. She could still hear the muffled noises of the TV from the bedroom, but this was the closest she was going to get to privacy right now. Reaching a long arm down the side of the tub, she felt for the folded towel she’d placed nearby and dried off her hands before picking up her phone, careful to keep it out of the water. 

_When do you want to meet?_

She sent the text to Sandor and sank her shoulders back underwater while she watched her phone for a reply. She thought she might have to wait a while since he wasn’t expecting her, but the response came immediately. 

_10 tomorrow morning, Springs Preserve_

After they heard of Robert Baratheon’s death, the night they had kissed, and then not kissed, and left things on less than certain terms, Sandor had sent her a cryptic text that woke her around 2 a.m. 

_Need to talk in person, text when alone, don’t tell anyone we’re talking_

She had been too confused and half asleep to try to formulate a coherent response at the time. And then everything had been so crazy the following day with the news, and her father, and rearranging their travel plans, that she hadn’t had a chance to get away and check in with Sandor further until now. 

She googled the proposed location quickly before responding. 

_Ok,_ she said.

_Don’t tell anyone, not even your sister_

Sansa’s heart was racing and her mind was full, rearranging the pieces of the last few days into different pictures. She couldn’t tell for certain the reason for all this sudden secrecy; he hadn’t minded if they were seen together before. But given the recent events, it must have to do with Robert’s death. Nothing else had changed, she thought. Except they had kissed too. 

Sansa slept poorly that night, but despite this woke early, restless and full of energy. She fretted away the time as well as she could. She rummaged quietly through Arya’s clothes for something nondescript and comfortable, then had coffee with her father in the living room and curled up on the couch, checking all the fashion blogs she followed. 

She dropped a hint first thing in the morning to her father than she had nothing to wear for the funeral, and as 9:30 rolled around she shut off her computer and told him and a bed-headed Arya, who was giving her purloined clothing a funny look, that she was going to go shop and would be back in the afternoon. 

It felt strange to hide anything from her sister, now when so much was suddenly open between them, but she followed Sandor’s instructions. He wouldn’t tell her so without good reason. She wondered if Arya could tell that she was hiding something, or even what it was. If so, she could be certain her sister would ask her about it. 

Springs Preserve was just across the street from the mall, an easy walk for Sansa after the driver dropped her off. It was a warm day and Arya’s jeans were tight on her legs and didn’t help. She didn’t see Sandor at the entrance to the garden, but it was very nearly 10 so she went ahead inside. There was a pretty seating area nearby where she would be able to see everyone that came in, and she settled down onto it with her yellow and black Carolina Herrera handbag on her lap. 

She felt him before she saw him, a strong familiar presence approaching her from behind a few minutes after she sat down, her looming but welcome shadow. Sansa was surprised how relieved she felt to see him again in person after the near silence of yesterday, real and solid. She looked at him with a smile, to let him know she was glad; his face betrayed nothing. 

“Walk with me.”

With a little frown Sansa did as she was told. She’d hoped he would be as happy to see her as she was to see him. There were few people in the garden, nothing around them but cacti. He must have felt this would be a safe place or he wouldn’t have suggested meeting here, but he took his time and diligently looked around them all the same. They had walked about 50 feet away from the entrance when her large companion began to speak again. 

“I can’t stay long. I have a suspicion but I need some time to confirm it.” He sighed and brushed his long dark hair out of his face. “No one can know I have any kind of….relationship with you, with your family, until I get this sorted. But I needed to see you, to let you know.”

“What is it?” Sansa asked, brow furrowed.

“It may be nothing. I’m not going off of much at this point but Cersei’s been very uptight, more than usual. She’s got me meeting with the executor, Petyr Baelish, to exchange money with him for something.”

“Isn’t he the brothel owner?”

“That’s one of very many things he does. He’s a proficient businessman, and what’s important is Robert thought he was impartial.”

“Is he not?”

“He’s partial to himself.”

Sansa was beginning piece together the implications of what Sandor was saying, or she thought she was. She wondered when they had become able to communicate with so few words. “But she won’t trust you to do it if she thinks you have other – interests.”

Sandor nodded. 

“But – “ Sansa continued, “what about Arya and Gendry? Do they need to keep quiet too?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t want to bring them into this when it could be nothing. Might be good for Cersei to have something else to worry about, to keep her occupied.” He sighed deeply and rubbed the mangled side of his face. “But then if I find what I think I might find, or even if I don’t, I need to get out of there. If I quit I lose leverage that could protect us – me – later. She’ll never fire me; I know too much. But technically the little fucker Joffrey’s my boss, and he might be persuaded.”

They walked for a little while in silence, Sansa deep in thought and Sandor looking perturbed. Though he wouldn’t say, she suspected what might be in the balance here and wondered why he would go through so much trouble for it. For her? But this didn’t even involve her, not really. 

Shaking her head to move on from that useless line of thought, she focused instead on the problem of Joffrey. How to provoke him into doing the exact irrational thing they wanted? Of course he was proud and impulsive and took offence easily. She knew all too well how little he liked not getting what he wanted. She might be able to push him in the right direction.

“When?” Sansa asked. She would need some time to prepare.

“Looking like the day of the funeral, maybe the day after.”

Sansa pursed her lips; this could work. “And I can’t see you until then?”

“No, little bird,” he sighed. 

“I understand.” Sansa looped her arm through his, and he started at the touch. “But I’m not happy about it.”

Sandor snorted and started to lead her back to the building. “Well I can’t be sneaking off to fucking gardens all the time. And I’m sure you won’t miss me.”

“I will.” 

He shook his head. “Anyway, I don’t know why I told you all of this.” 

“I do, and I’m glad,” Sansa said, “Really. I promise I won’t tell a soul. I won’t say a word to Arya.”

“I know, little bird.”

“And anyway,” she continued, “you think you could just disappear without telling me why?”

He gave her a small awkward smile, one that looked more like a grimace, in way of an answer as they approached the back door to the visitor’s center, and she could feel her heart beating faster than it ought to. Trying to be discreet, she glanced up towards the building without moving her head, back down to watch her step, back up to the building. Finally, there she saw it, what looked like a small security camera. 

“Sandor,” she said, “Once all this is over, is it ok if people know?”

He looked at her with a strange light in his eyes, and she shivered despite the heat. “Know what, little bird?” He asked lightly.

“This.” She could feel the color rising in her cheeks and chest as she looped her long arms around his neck. Sansa stood on her tip toes and leaned in closer to him, tentatively. 

Before she could make contact, she felt his strong hands on her waist, pulling her hard into him. As quickly as she could react his mouth descended on hers, warm and demanding and insistent. Her body was flush against his, his arms holding her close. They fit together perfectly. 

Sansa was lightheaded and her lips throbbed when Sandor broke their kiss as quickly as he had started it. The bright daylight returned to her, and the public location, and the security cameras. She leaned her head into him to steady herself, her hands trailing down over his shoulders to rest on his broad chest. 

Quietly, without looking up, she asked, “You’ll tell me when it’s done?”

“Absolutely.” She could feel the word rumbling through him. 

Sansa stepped back from him, small hands taking his large ones so that he couldn’t leave yet. “Can I text you still if I need anything?”

“Yes, if you must and you’re careful.”

She nodded. “I think – I think I can take care of the employment issue, with Joffrey.” She studied his face closely for a reaction but as always he was unreadable. Swallowing, she continued, “Just let me know when you have what you need and I’ll take care of that.”

“What are you planning little bird?” His voice carried a trace of amusement.

Sansa flashed a big, innocent smile at him. “It’s best if you don’t know. I’ll trust you and you trust me, okay?”

Sandor bent down to her, drawing her back in for another quick kiss. His rough, scarred lips already felt familiar. “Deal.”

“I’ll wait here for a while,” she told him, “If you need to go.”

“Unfortunately I do.” He turned to leave, but not five feet from her he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “If you want people to know afterwards – about this – that’s completely up to you.”

Sansa waited until he was comfortably gone, long after she watched him disappear, before heading inside. A few sweet words with the manager on duty gained her possession of the security footage. She should be able to get the rest from the hotel and the Stratosphere, enough anyway. 

With a smile on her face and a new spring in her step, she began to make her way back to the mall. The mall was a disaster, not even a Nordstrom or Von Maur. Without wasting any time, she grabbed another cab back to some of the ritzier shops on the strip where she might actually find something suitable. She still needed something to wear to the funeral, after all. 

Sansa chose two outfits, for two alternate situations. One was classic, something she would actually chose to wear to a formal high society event like this. The other made her self conscious and uncomfortable. It was skin tight and showed off her body, while still skirting the line of appropriate. Joffrey would appreciate it though. And she needed to take this opportunity to remind him, unless it was already over by then.

* * *

Sansa expected to feel relieved as the day of the funeral finally drew to a close, but the tension she was carrying only continued to build. It had been a real test of wills to not talk to Sandor during the reception, not to watch him, especially as oddly close as he kept to Joffrey that afternoon. She wondered if that was his way of reminding her to keep her distance. She knew that he noticed how Joffrey watching her, and hoped he understood. 

She lost track of him before she left though, sometime during her conversation with Dany Targaryen, and didn’t see him again. Sansa hadn’t been back to the hotel long though when her phone dinged with a long awaited message:

_I have it._

There it was, final, with a period and everything. Suddenly it became very difficult for Sansa to breathe. She was ready, she had been hoping for this, but now she had to finish it. There were a million things she wanted to say.

_Keep near him tomorrow,_ was her only reply.

She didn’t expect anything further from him, but still sat and stared at her phone for several long minutes, watching the words on the screen as if they would change. 

Do it, Sansa, she told herself sternly. With her brows set in a hard line and her lips clamped between her teeth, she began to carefully compose an email from a throwaway account she had set up. Not that it would be difficult to trace to her, but she was certain no one would bother. She added a bit of her own commentary along with the images, hoping they would take her lead but doubtful that they would. Both terrified and exhilarated, Sansa hit send. 

While she tried to find anything else to occupy her brain, Sansa thought back to her odd conversation with the Targaryen girl. She’d sought Sansa out in the crowd and introduced herself. Sansa recognized her from the poker tournament, she wasn’t the kind of person to be easily forgotten. She had a sense of worldliness and authority that Sansa envied. 

The girl begged a moment of Sansa’s time, and briefly told her of her family’s history in the city. Her father had apparently once been a very wealthy and influential man, and owned King’s Landing before Mr. Baratheon. As he got older, her father’s mind had left him, and a series of bad decisions and others looking to take advantage of the situation had left him completely ruined, something the family had not been aware of until his death. 

Disgraced at the loss of his inheritance and family standing, her older brother had died of a drug overdose, whether intentional or unintentional they weren’t sure. Devastated, Dany and her mother had left town, disappeared to Europe, and begun to rebuild themselves. 

She told Sansa all of this to lead up to a proposition. She smiled and took Sansa’s hand. “There are still people loyal to my family, who want to make right the wrongs,” she’d said. “I’ve heard only good things about you, just keep your eyes open and let me know.” Sansa hadn’t had the opportunity to press her any further, as Gendry came up unexpectedly between them at that moment. 

She was back in her room now, reveling in being alone. She didn’t expect Arya would be back until very late, if at all. Sansa felt sure the events surrounding the funeral had given her the last piece she needed; Joffrey hadn’t been able to stop looking at her, and he did not look happy. The timing could not have been better. 

Confirmation that she was successful, at least in part, came sooner than she expected. 

_So you know that friend I told you about at The Spider,_ Margaery’s text read, _who lets me know if something might come out that I’d like to know about?_

_Yes…_

_Well he sent me something I thought you might want to see_

A picture followed. Margaery continued without waiting for a reply.

_I might have something old I can bargain with him, otherwise he said it’s set for release tomorrow_

_Don’t be silly,_ Sansa told her friend, _I sent it to them_

_Sweetie are you ok?_

_Just peachy :)_

Sansa smiled to herself. Tomorrow would definitely be interesting. Difficult, maybe, but she couldn't wait.


End file.
